#World's Tiniest Zombie Fic

[corinthianism]

DON'T THEY KNOW? (IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD) || BENEDICT BRIDGERTON (1)

pairing: benedict bridgerton/fem!reader additional tags: zombie apocalypse au, graphic depictions of gore/violence, fluff, angst, biology stuff i just made up so it's probs super inaccurate lol, slow burn, friends to lovers summary: ravaged by a relentless virus, the world as you knew it falls into ruin. survivors are hardened by the blood on their hands and the horrors in their minds. amidst the end of everything, benedict proves that there is still hope, and perhaps something more, for the two of you. word count: 6.4k

author's note: welcome to the first part of my new zombie au series with our boy benedict! for those who don't know, this is based entirely on the fic "i'll be seeing you" by @eleanor-bradstreet! thanks again to them for letting me vomit up this fic based on their incredible one <333 anyway, this chapter is mostly exposition, so most of the benedict/you romance will really start in the succeeding parts. hopefully, you find this chapter interesting enough to stick around! (+for readers of my dean winchester series, don't worry! chapter 3 will come out soon!)

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CHAPTER ONE: HERE, IN THE END

The world had been so loud before.

The droning noise of traffic. Of the intermingling of a thousand phone calls, nestled in between cheeks and shoulders. Of people talking at each other, screaming over each other, fighting to get the final say in even the tiniest little thing. Everything blurred together into one great ocean of sound. You could drown in it, especially in the big cities.

You were right in the middle of it all: a drifter. It took a while but eventually, that ocean of sound became your home. You struggled to recall what it was like before that. That too, was blurry now along with everything else from Before. All you had now were fading fragments of a dream to be someone. Anyone.

That was how you met him, just before the beginning of the end. You still weren’t convinced that Benedict Bridgerton wasn’t some kind of romance novel character come to life; a talented artist from a long line of English nobility, and the first friend you ever made in New York. It was like something out of a crappy Hallmark movie. He laughed at your reaction upon learning that his brother was an actual viscount and that Benedict himself technically should be referred to as “the Honourable Benedict Bridgerton”, but despite all the grandeur that came with his heritage, Benedict was still… Benedict. In time, he became just Ben. He’d paint while you ranted about your borderline dangerous work hours or how your parents were bugging you to settle down. In turn, he shared with you his frustrations as an artist trying to make it in the world, without his family name, and how at the same time he missed his mother’s cooking. Conversations with him were always lovely, like breathing in the air in the middle of a field of flowers after a decade of being locked inside a dark, stuffy room. He was just like you. Just trying to be someone.

But those conversations all seemed so far away now. If you had known then what would become of your life, of those dreams to be someone, maybe you would’ve just let yourself drown in that ocean of sound. 

It only took two weeks for the world to fall into ruin. Only fourteen days for everything to go up in flames. 

The virus was ruthless. The most efficient killer the likes of which no one had ever seen. A terrifying force of nature seemingly tailored for the extinction of humanity. You were right in the middle of it all. You saw it with your own eyes, a cluster of people beginning to form in Times Square. With New York being New York, you thought nothing of it. You walked away none the wiser.

Until you heard someone scream, a gut-wrenching, visceral scream, followed by a sound you would never forget. A sound you’d have to hear over and over again for the better part of the next ten years, though you didn’t know it yet at the time: teeth ripping flesh from bone and the primal snarls accompanying it that couldn’t have been anything except inhuman. Monstrous, even. It sent ripples into the great big ocean you called home, altering it so permanently just seconds before you even realized what was happening. 

Sound, quickly followed by sight. 

The people huddled on the outer edges of the crowd ran off in terror, revealing the gruesome remains of what used to be a person. Even that was something you barely registered at first, eyes too focused on the bloody mouths feasting on it and white, foggy eyes. One of those things stopped its chewing, head snapping up suddenly. It sniffed the air for a while, as if sensing your fear even from twenty feet away. Those white eyes were looking at you now. Staring you down. Seconds later, the corpse being eaten started writhing back to life, or a perverted version of it. Its jaw was skewed, perpetually stuck wide open as drool and blood ran down its chin. You weren’t someone then. If your body hadn’t gone into autopilot, legs taking you as far away as they could, you would’ve been one of them. That was the very first day of what would be the longest two weeks of your life. You remembered it well.

There was no time to think or breathe. Even when your chest hurt from overexerting yourself and your lungs screamed for a break, you ran. You ran as fast as you could, crashing into people, some of which were still unaware of the horrors spreading just a block away from them. In the corner of your eyes, you knew that there were others like you, scrambling to go home, to go anywhere but here. Cars stopped in the middle of the road, curiosity killing the cat as drivers left their vehicles to see what was going on, only to be met with the same sight you were: death. In only a few minutes, nearly a third of the people on the streets were running, too. 

A little girl cried in her father’s arms, a teddy bear left behind and forgotten on the cement road as they also tried to get away. The realization dawning on the faces of onlookers that they should be doing the same. 

You reached your apartment building, not really knowing what you would do next, just that you needed to get away. The hallways were empty. A part of you hoped Ben was far, far away from here. A more selfish part of you hoped otherwise.

Supplies. You needed supplies. Food, clothes, water. Emergency kit, tools, weapons. Weapons. You had no fucking idea what to do with any of this! Just yesterday, you held a steady, if not miserable, office job. Today, you had to survive against whatever-the-hell those things were and perhaps even other people. The weight of that sudden realization twisted your guts in a sickening way, enough to make you almost throw up.

Peeking through your blinds, there were already three or four ambulances rushing to the direction of Times Square.Those things were not here yet and still, you naively hoped that help would come and dispatch of them before it got out of control. 

You barely noticed the sweat that began to trickle down your forehead and back, hairs raising out of instinct. Your whole body was going into overdrive, hyper-aware of the fact that you were in danger. 

The rapid knocking on your door nearly frightened you to death, until you heard Ben’s desperate calls of your name. Out of breath and scared… much like you. You wondered if he had seen it, too. When you confirmed through the peephole that it was, in fact, him, you dragged him inside your apartment. Your hands were on his face as soon as he was inside, needing to know that he was here, he was with you, he was alive. It seemed he had the same need, icy blue eyes taking you in with such an intensity you’d only ever seen when he was painting. It was easy to feel small under his gaze.

“Are you alright?” he breathed heavily, larger hands covering your own. 

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat, “Did you- did you see-”

“I saw them,” he said, his composure faltering for a split second. “I saw them.”

You could hear more sirens outside, one after another, disrupting the ocean you had grown so familiar with. Louder and louder. 

“We need to leave, get out of New York,” he ran a hand through his hair, eyes moving wildly as he tried to come up with a plan. It was the Bridgerton in him: the bravery of his father, the gentleness of his mother. It didn’t need to be said out loud that the moment he saw those things, all he could think of was you. Getting to you and getting you safe. His only true friend in this city. It took all of fifteen minutes before you were out the door, nearly overwhelmed by the swarm of people all running away from Times Square. Ben held your hand tightly, and you did your best not to look behind you.

The sun was beginning to set, wrapping the city in a bright orange light. It felt ominous somehow, so unlike every other time you’d seen it. Like this was some form of judgment. As if at any moment, you’d hear the seven trumpets telling you that this was the end. You learned later on that you weren’t the only one that thought that. Bile threatened to rise in your throat when the shadows of night grew with each passing second. It felt like it was going to swallow you alive.

The road was packed full of people, crying and yelling and praying for salvation. Ants begging to get away from the magnifying glass only to be burned anyway.

The screams grew louder and against your better judgment, you looked back. You were too far away to see everything clearly, and because Ben was constantly pulling you forward, but you could make out the smaller swarm of walking corpses slowly coming into view. The poor souls who weren’t able to keep up with the main crowd were dragged away to be bitten, spreading the godforsaken disease. More and more bodies littered the streets, staining the concrete with the blood of dozens. Then, not even a minute later, they would rise with jaws gnashing and wide white eyes, their humanity lost forever.

Your legs felt so heavy, as did the rest of you. If it weren’t for Ben’s ferocious determination to get out of the city and to keep the both of you safe, you wouldn’t have survived that first day at all. Helicopters flew above and across the city, the whooshing of its blades mingling with the screams. The ocean of sound was threatening to drown you. You didn’t look up anymore. It would’ve shattered you if you had, because you knew there weren’t nearly enough choppers to save everyone in the city. It was impossible. Your heart broke for all the people, all the someones, who were dead long before they could even fight for the chance to live.

The sky was dark now.

By some miracle, you reached the army’s barricade. Soldiers ushered people to safety, including you and Ben. You squeezed his hand, causing him to look at you for a moment. A temporary reprieve from that day’s horrors. His fair skin was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead like black tendrils. It was like everything slowed down, but maybe it was all just in your head. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. The moment was cut short when you heard an explosion from behind you. Your head snapped to the direction of the noise, so did Ben’s, and the “small swarm” of the undead from before had multiplied to thrice its size in the short few minutes you spent running away. 

Gunfire rang in your ears once the monsters got a little too close for the army’s liking, but the crowds of the living and the undead had already begun to mix by that point. Bullets meant to pierce rotting flesh ended up killing people who were very much alive and uninfected. You could only watch, from behind the barricade of soldiers, the people in the perpetually moving crowd who would stop once they realized their loved ones were no longer beside them. You could only watch when the body of a child (belonging to the same little girl you saw earlier that day, you realized grimly) was forcefully torn from the arms of her father when a soldier spotted the bite mark on her leg, bleeding and angry. Her plump, tear-stained cheeks that were once symbols of her youth and innocence were ruined by a sickly green that rose to the surface, emphasizing violet veins that always looked like it was crawling, spreading just underneath the skin. Then, she was one of them. Writhing, bones cracking. There was no recognition in her cloudy eyes when her father begged for his baby girl to come back to him. 

Ben held you tighter, his hand cradling your head as the other soldiers evacuated as many people as they could.

“We need to go,” he pleaded, still firmly holding on to you as you were both pushed around by the crowd. “Please, love, just look at me.”

So you did. Those eyes, brilliant and blue and full of worry, were the only things that pulled you back down to Earth. Tears were shed and prayers were whispered on the chopper that whisked you away from New York. A couple hundred feet into the air, you could see the city crumble. You remembered briefly wondering how many bodies were left behind or how many turned into one of those things.  

Everything changed in those first fourteen days of the Outbreak. Eighty percent of the world’s population had been wiped out, unprepared to face a force so vicious. That was how effective the virus was, which was later dubbed the “Gaia Virus”. Mother Nature’s wrath.

The survivors in the States were brought to “safe zones” all over the country, areas barren and isolated enough that the Infected, which mostly stayed in the previously overpopulated cities and towns, were unlikely to get to them. The first few months after the Outbreak were spent being transferred to different safe zones, never staying for more than a week at a time.  

At first, the safe zones were supposed to be a temporary refuge for survivors. The government, or what was left of it, promised to reclaim the cities within a year and make them habitable again. Then a year passed, and they said it would take them another year. So another year passed and they said the same thing. Over and over until… radio silence. No one brought it up again. The few who did were not treated kindly by the rest of the survivors. 

Most people caught onto the memo fairly quickly, with soldiers and generals making up the new leadership hierarchy of the safe zones in place of politicians and peacemakers: you keep your head down, you do as you’re told, and you’ll get food and water and blankets.

The people brave (or stupid) enough to make a scene were never heard from again by the next week.

So there you were, moving across the country, going from state to state and living off of food rations and hope. Both were two resources that were steadily depleting. Benedict was there with you through it all, your steadfast companion. Conversations about surrealism and horrible bosses turned into questions about whether or not your friends and families were safe, if they had made it to the safe zones. That was the first time you saw him cry, not able to withstand the possibility that his beloved mother and siblings were gone, perhaps now part of the Infected. Even if they survived, he knew there was a slim chance he would ever see them again. He cursed himself sometimes, him and his foolish need to be someone. If he had stayed in Kent, if he just settled down like his brothers, perhaps he would still be with them today. But his mother was the kindest woman he had ever known and he knew deep down that she forgave him long before he realized what he’d done. He knew they all did.

Grief was your (and Ben’s) constant state of being. It weighed you down on most days, making your feet dig deeper into the dirt when you walked. On some days, it was all-consuming. It was the only reason most survivors rarely caused any trouble. As horrible as humans could be to each other, this shared grief that echoed through the hearts of everyone was translated into little acts of kindness that, at the best of times, were life-saving. To be given a drop of water by a woman dying of thirst. To be offered a piece of bread by a man whose stomach rumbled louder than his voice. More often than not, it was always the eldest survivors that did this. Perhaps it was because they knew that they had already lived long, fulfilling lives. Perhaps it was because they knew Death was already at their door, so they might as well help someone else live.

Of course, there would always be people looking out for themselves, you and Ben had expected that from the get go, but it still surprised you how much compassion a person could still have at the end of the world. It didn’t happen too often though, but the times that it did were memories you held close to your heart.

The days went by, often cruel and unforgiving to those who couldn’t adjust to the new reality, but Ben still found ways to make you smile. 

“It’s the artist in me,” he said to you one night, three years after the Outbreak, when you had asked him how he could bear to still be so… him. There was a secluded spot you two often escaped to whenever there was a need for it, a small cliff at the edge of the safe zone. You were both slightly tipsy from whiskey you traded some radio parts for. “The whole world’s gone to shit and I can’t help but still find it somewhat beautiful. It’s like a movie, isn’t it? Two friends at the end of the world— and besides, what else are we supposed to do? Wallow in self-pity? I think you and I do enough of that.”

The sun was beginning to set, something you had grown to dislike since that first day. You decided to lie down for a moment, uncaring if bits of soil got in your hair. You closed your eyes, trying to just be. You didn’t always get the opportunity to do that anymore.

“Look,” he nudged your side after a while, his accent slurring a little as he pointed at something. You raised a brow at him, now-open eyes following what his finger was pointing at. The sky. It was pitch black, but a splash of stars covered the heavens like a mural. You had never seen that many stars before, certainly not in the cities you’d lived in your whole life. Ben sighed and your attention was back on him. “You couldn’t see them as clearly back home, but I used to stargaze often with my siblings.”

“That sounds lovely,” you whispered.

“It was.”

The two of you were silent for a while, just sitting on that patch of dirt, overlooking the vast lands that spread as far as the eye can see. That was how isolated these safe zones were. The gentle night breeze tickled your skin. 

“I haven’t really looked at the sky properly since the Outbreak,” you confessed, slumping in your seat. “I think it makes me feel small. And sad. Look at us. Our tiny little planet, how fucked up everything is. Look at us. And there’s a whole universe out there that’s completely indifferent to everything that goes on down here.”

“It’s humbling,” he hummed in understanding. “To be a speck in a great big universe yet feeling a whole universe worth of emotion.”

“That’s good,” you chuckled. “Very poetic.”

He grinned at you, cheeks flushed slightly, “I try.”

Another bout of silence.

“Thank you, by the way.” 

“Whatever for, love?” he raised a brow in curiosity, his tone soft. It always was.

“For being here,” you took a deep breath. “For sticking around.”

His smile shone brighter when he heard this, his hand finding its way around yours. “You’d be mad to think I’d ever leave you here. If anything, you’re stuck with me. I’m just—” he cleared his throat. “I’m just sorry that… that it has to be like this. Drifting, never staying too long in one place to be able to call it a home. You deserve more. You deserve better.”

“You say that like it’s your fault,” your hand squeezed his in hopes of bringing him some comfort. “I’m not gonna lie and say we’re doing alright because we honestly look like shit”—that earned you a hearty chuckle from him—”but we’re doing better than most. And that’s because we’ve had each other all this time. That’s one of the things I was thanking you for. None of this on you, Ben. You deserve more, too. You hear me?”

He straightened his back and flashed you a soft smile, “I hear you.”

The two of you looked back up at the sky, admiring the twinkling of millions of stars. You were somewhere in Arizona, according to the other survivors. Soldiers kept the exact location under lock and key to dissuade survivors from sharing it with others who were still out in the open world. There just wasn’t enough room. But you had a feeling that it had more to do with the risk of attracting Infected. Limited armada and manpower meant the military was just unable to handle that kind of scenario.

You learned more about the Infected over time, having worked odd jobs for the military for more food, water, or supplies. Even something as simple as filtration duty on Tuesdays earned you tidbits of information.

From what you could piece together in the past couple of years, the Gaia Virus most likely came from melting glaciers and ice caps, triggered by global warming. It polluted bodies of water across the world, eventually making its way into reservoirs undetected. It was the perfect way to spread. Nobody can last more than three days without water, so the virus made sure no one would last at all. Once fully turned, Infected were nearly perfect killers. Soldiers sometimes told stories of their encounters with them. They were completely blind, though that much was obvious from the milkiness of their eyes. Infected also didn’t react to any physical damage done to them. Whether or not they felt it was a different story. With possibly two of their senses out of the picture, the rest were heightened. They could hear and smell better than people. If prey were close enough, all those things had to do was follow the scent trail. The fact that these monsters could perceive things humans could barely register was a terrifying thought.

Bodies of Infected retrieved from the destroyed cities were studied, Ben himself had seen this on one such odd job. The virus kills its host before taking over the body, this much was known. However, the brain was shown to endure, preventing the more advanced stages of decomposition. It raised questions about whether or not hosts really died, or if a tiny part of them still lived on even as they transformed into flesh-eating beasts. You’ve heard whispers that it was more like the brain sent constant streams of adrenaline even after death, keeping the body going long after it was supposed to fall apart and rot. True or not, it was the only explanation you had.

You’d seen your fair share of people who’ve fallen victim to a bite; doomed to have their life snuffed out as soon as that was discovered, whether that was by execution or dying to the virus. 

The time it took to die after being bitten was different for everyone. Some died within minutes, others within hours. The longest one you’d seen was a soldier brought back to the Detroit safe zone after a patrol gone wrong. A stray Infected had sensed him and attacked him during the night, leaving a massive bite on his shoulder. He fought so fiercely against the symptoms of the fever, hovering between life and death for nearly an entire day before finally succumbing to the virus. You couldn’t forget how pale he was when he was wheeled into the makeshift camp on a gurney, watching the life be drained out of him in real time. He was shot in the head by his comrades as soon as he turned. The event shook everyone. The disappearances began shortly after that.

The people who spoke up against the military drew the ire of everyone: the military didn’t tolerate people who questioned their authority and everyone else just wanted to mind their own business. When these undesirables began to disappear, everyone chalked it up to them just being hard-headed. The popular theory was they got sick of the military’s iron grip and decided to leave the safe zone, and then probably died. Nobody took it too seriously. Nobody could have done anything about it anyway. Everyone was just focused on staying alive. 

Cooper was another survivor in the Arizona safe zone. You and Ben had been there for a month, and he was the first and only person to welcome you with open arms. He was a lanky man, and had blond hair and kind, brown eyes. Only a few years younger than you. He was the jovial type, often inviting you and Ben to tag along with him on whatever job he found earlier that day. His Boston accent was unmistakable, often getting stronger when offered liquor. 

He was also in strong opposition to the militant lifestyle in the safe zones, though he knew better than to broadcast his distaste. Cooper joined you and Ben on the night the two of you were stargazing, eyes wide in terror. You had never seen him like that before. He was always one to stay optimistic, which was a wonder considering the state of the world. Cooper looked like he ran to get to you, his damp tattered shirt sticking to his body.

He grabbed you by your shoulders, fingertips digging into your skin deep enough to make you wince all while a jumble of words were frantically spewing out of his mouth. Ben immediately got up, nearly growling at Cooper for hurting you, “Get your hands off them.”

It seemed as though Ben’s warning briefly snapped Cooper back to reality, because the man did pull away but his hands still trembled violently.

“What’s wrong?” you furrowed your brows in worry, unused to seeing Cooper in such a state.

“You need to get out of here,” it felt like there was something darker lingering behind his words. He looked at Ben. “You need to go.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Ben cut him off, his protectiveness from before calming down when he finally noticed the genuine panic and fear in Cooper’s eyes. “Tell us what’s happening.”

The poor man looked like he was ready to explode right then and there. He was practically soaked in his own sweat, both from the exhaustion of running to get to you and Ben, and the shock of the news he brought, it seemed.

“They were taking them,” he choked back tears, his feet stuck to the ground. His nostrils were flaring from how hard he was breathing.

“Who, Coop? Who’s taking who?” this time it was your hands on his shoulders, though your touch was gentle, trying to keep him grounded. 

“The soldiers,” he whispered, his voice grim. “We- we thought they were executing them for questioning the army but I saw them! I saw them. In the big tent. They’re trying… they’re trying to make a vaccine.”

The severity of his tone reminded you all too much of Ben at your doorstep on that very first day of the Outbreak.

Ben’s surprise was palpable, “What?”

“A vaccine,” Cooper stressed, each breath he drew was ragged (you could hear it from how close he was standing to you), “but it’s not working. I saw the bodies. Whatever they’re doing, it’s torture— you should’ve seen them. They infected them on purpose.”

Your blood went cold, like liquid nitrogen shocking your system. That’s what the army had been doing all this time?  It made perfect sense, but the new information flooded your brain with images of those people who went missing, strapped to a table, and being injected with the virus. If they were trying to make a vaccine, they—the test subjects—would have to have been kept alive for as long as possible, conscious of the parasite invading their body. It made your stomach churn, forcing you to step back and look away. Ben was similarly devastated, jaw clenched as he stared at Cooper. He zeroed in on a different piece of information.

There were Infected in the safe zone.

“That’s… they can’t just keep taking people,” he gritted his teeth. Cooper stayed silent. Ben spoke again, firmer and more desperate this time, “...can they?”

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for you even if they did,” Cooper said, defeated. Still breathing hard. “We’re too far away. And if the rest of the safe zones aren’t already in the same situation then they aren’t gonna waste gas to go all the way here. The soldiers here can just make up something and no one would know.”

An “oh, God” left your lips, your hands shaking, mirroring Cooper’s. From where you stood, you could see the main camp and the largest tent, the main military tent, in the middle of it. You’ve walked past it, stared at it a hundred times, and never knew what was going on inside. You found yourself asking if there was a time when you stared at that tent, and just on the other side was someone just like you being experimented on with the deadliest virus known to mankind.Your eyes stung with tears when your treacherous mind thought of Ben in that position, bruised by different needles and tubes protruding from him.

“Please, you need to go,” Cooper pleaded with the two of you desperately, his head hanging low.

“Shit,” Ben cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyes with one hand in frustration. “All of our supplies are back in the main camp.” 

“You can’t go back!”

“We’ll die out there if we don’t get those supplies,” you pointed out to the blond. “We wouldn’t last a week.”

Ben had already begun to walk back to camp, masking his anxieties to the best of his abilities if what Cooper was saying was true. You weren’t that far behind, ears ringing with Cooper’s pleas not to go back. He didn’t chase after you anymore, falling silent once he realized there was nothing he could do to change your mind. It was only a short trek from the cliff back to the main camp. The outer perimeter of the safe zone was always being patrolled by soldiers which meant, without any weapons, you would’ve been dead if you tried to escape right away. A checkpoint came into view along with the two guards, Paul and Walter, holding rifles on either side of the path. You were familiar with each other from how often you passed through this checkpoint to get to the cliff.

“Paul, Walter,” Ben smiled coolly at the guards once you were finally standing in front of them. “Late shift? I thought you’d have switched with Reese by now.”

“Higher-ups needed more men in other places, so here we are,” Paul sighed, before turning his attention to you. “You guys back at the cliff again?”

“Yeah,” you mimicked Ben, feigning a smile of your own. You still weren’t completely sure if Cooper had been telling the truth, but interacting with Paul felt different now that you knew what could’ve been happening behind closed doors. “Camp can be a little too much sometimes, y’know? No offense. Just… needed to get away for a while.”

Paul nodded in understanding. 

“Okay, you know the routine,” Walter shrugged, handing you and Ben a bloodchecker each. It was a small vial full of a blue solution, connected to a thin, replaceable tube ending with a needle. The solution would turn clear if mixed with Gaia-infected blood, and a dark muddy brown if the blood was clean. You pierced your arm with the needle, watching your blood travel through the tube and drip down into the solution, turning it brown as you had expected. Glancing over at Ben’s bloodchecker, you found that his was the same. Thankfully.

You were about to pass through the checkpoint when Walter pulled Ben aside, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out, but you saw Ben’s reaction. To anyone else, it would have seemed like he didn’t react at all. Most people only would’ve noticed his polite smile and hushed ‘thank you” to the guard before returning to your side, but you saw through it: the slightest twitch of his hand and the way his lips tightened at what Walter told him. It was so clear to you that he was bothered by it, whatever it was. 

“What was that?” you asked him, trying to keep up with his fast-paced stride.

He only spared you a single glance, only a single moment of softness, but now you were inside the central safe zone. Soldiers were standing guard in every direction. There seemed to be more of them than usual. Ben continued forward to the direction of your tent which was a bit farther from everyone else’s. He kept his voice low, “Not here.”

Your shared tent with Ben was bare. The apocalypse didn’t exactly grant you a life of luxury, but that tent was yours. It stayed the same after every new safe zone you were transferred to. Next to the two worn down single mattresses were your backpacks, one of the only things you still had from before the Outbreak besides each other. While you double-checked your supplies, making sure nothing was missing while you were gone, Ben slid one of the mattresses to the side, which was sitting on top of an old rug. He pulled that aside too, his hands digging into the soil, digging and digging until finally, you could see the lid of a crate you had buried.

The crate was filled with jugs of water. Clean, pure, uninfected water. The result of three years of patiently collecting rainwater and saving up whatever the army gave you, carefully filtering each drop throughout the night when you knew no one else would be bothering you. This water was precious. It was gold. And it was a pain to move from safe zone to safe zone. You and Ben had had to resort to bribing and lying for the past three years to make sure it was safe. 

Once you were done checking over the supplies, you knelt by Ben’s side. “So… are you gonna tell me what Walter said to you or are you gonna keep being mysterious?” you tried to keep your tone light.

“They were looking for Cooper,” his gaze didn’t leave the jugs of water. His hands, once always covered in paint, were now caked in dirt. “Said we should report him if we did.”

“What?” you questioned. “That doesn’t make any sense, everyone has to go in and out of that checkpoint to get to the cliff. There’s no way Paul and Walter didn’t see him.”

“So how could he have seen all of those supposed experiments in the main tent?” he turned to face you, his expression severe. “That tent is the most heavily guarded thing in this camp. If what he said is true, then there was no way he could’ve left and not be spotted and then somehow manage to get to us without going through the checkpoint.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while, racking your brains for any sort of information that could help you get closer to solving this mystery. It was entirely plausible that Cooper had been lying about the experimentations and the vaccines but despite having only known him for a short while, you knew he wasn’t the type to do something like that. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. Hell, he was the kind of person that worked overtime during the apocalypse. He was an honest man.

Then you remembered something.

“It’s Tuesday today.”

Ben looked at you, puzzled, “Yes, it is… What’s going through your head, love?”

“Filtration duty,” you answered. “They filter out the water in the main tent…”

“...then dump the waste outside of camp,” Ben finished for you, eyes widening. “You think Cooper was in the main tent on purpose?”

“I mean, that’s the only explanation, right? Nothing else has left camp since last week and nobody checks a truck carrying waste. Maybe Cooper was on one of those trucks,” you said before looking back at Ben. “I… I thought I was just seeing things. Did you notice how he was earlier?”

“Out of breath from running…?” Ben frowned, not quite following your train of thought as easily as he usually did.

“He wasn’t just out of breath. He was smelling me.” 

You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he put the pieces together. He couldn’t quite believe the conclusion he arrived at, that much you could tell, but the disbelief washed away when no other possible explanation presented itself to him.

“How?” his voice was shaky, a quiet sort of devastation clouding his features. Cooper was likely already infected earlier, though you couldn’t tell which stage of infection he was at. The signs pointed to a peculiar middleground between the fever that occurred right before death, and the grotesque reanimation once the virus had complete control over the body.

“Maybe he was telling the truth. Part of it, at least.”

You both looked back at the jugs of water, taking out a few of the smaller containers before hurriedly placing the lid back on the crate. With the crate concealed by the soil and rug, you and Ben made quick work of gathering your things, hiding the small jugs of water underneath clothes, foods, and whatever else were in your bags. 

You always made sure to have a plan in case you ever needed to leave a safe zone. The water you collected was too valuable; you had to be able to move it whenever and wherever you needed, but with all the soldiers standing guard outside, you knew this would be impossible even with all of your planning. You just had to bring what you could.

Without uttering a word, you and Ben both knew this was the last night you were ever going to spend in this place. 

-

series taglist: comment down below if you'd like to be added!

[dewedup]

would you be so kind as to provide us with a Mountain sick-fic bc I have the Flu and I'm projecting on my tall guy 😔🙏

please enjoy sick!Mount, pack dynamics, tour travel, and a concerned Zephyr 🖤🖤🖤

as per usual a huge and loving thank you to @jimothybarnes for betaing and making me feel like I wrote the next great novel 🥰

(i may or may not have started a part two of possessive mount breaking zeph's heat when he's feeling better, it ties into the ending of this one so if that's something anyone's interested in reading let me know!)

1.8k of fluff, comfort and cuteness below the cut or on AO3 HERE

It starts with a tickle in the back of his throat. Mountain finds himself clearing it periodically throughout the day, but never getting rid of the foreign feeling when he swallows. It’s a small thing though, something he can push to the back of his mind while he focuses on sound checks, travelling and performing- basically everything related to being on tour.

He wakes up a day or two later and feels exhausted. His bones ache, his brain is foggy, the cold grip of a headache approaching from the edge of his consciousness. The tickle has doubled down in its presence, now tender and sore with every breath, word, or swallow. He feels like getting hit by a vehicle on the highway they’re driving down would be swifter and less painful than the illness working its way through his immune system.

He’s like a zombie, sleepwalking through the motions. Luckily, it’s just a travel day, spent moving from their last location to the next venue. He’s stuck on the bus for the entirety of the day, tries to spend time out in the lounge area with everyone else. But Phantom is loud and overly excited, peering through the window in utter delight as he points out the unofficial eighth wonder of the world.

They’re driving past the Grand Canyon, which honestly isn’t that grand, Mountain’s seen bigger canyons in Hell. Being a ghoul of the earth means he’s very fluent in geographic abnormalities, erosion and rocks. Instead of giving Phantom a lesson in his rocky background, which Swiss seems to be anticipating, if the roll of his eyes as he looks at Mountain is any indication, Mountain simply pats Phantom on the shoulder. He mutters good ghoul under his breath, and retreats to the sleeping bunks.

His rest is pitiful, he’s hot and sweaty, then he’s kicking the blankets off only to be greeted with a chill that seeps into his bones, limbs shaking at the abrupt changes in temperature. He never succumbs to complete sleep, lingering in a half-state of lethargy and just feeling poorly.

It might be minutes, hours or days later, when he feels a cool hand press against his forehead. He’s hallucinating now, because it feels like the hand of his mate, the same one that’s still at home, a disgusting amount of distance between them. He knows it’s not real, their sweet scent of licorice and fresh linen doesn’t fill his nostrils. But then again, he’s pretty congested, hasn’t been able to smell anything in the last day and a half.

Mountain whines as the touch moves from his forehead, shifting down to his equally heated cheek and offering the tiniest bit of respite from the fever. He’s sweating again, wants to rip his own skin off to escape the burning inside of him, when a light breeze seemingly appears from nowhere. It dances across his body, giving him the first sense of relief since he laid down in his bunk.

“Pietra,” the demon caressing his face coos, and Mountain truly must have died and went to Hell, because there’s only one soul who calls him the Italian word for stone.

He squints open an eye, meeting the concerned face of his mate.

“Zeph?” Mountain’s voice wobbles, cracking on the singular word, as tears threaten to fall. Zephyr takes a second to assess their situation before climbing right into the bunk beside Mountain, pulling their mate close.

Mountain rests his head on Zephyr’s chest as he lets out a few pathetic sniffles, mainly just feeling sorry for himself.

“We’re at the hotel, love. The others went inside, they didn’t want to wake you. My flight landed early so I’ve been here for a bit, setting up our nest.”

Nest. That’s right, in Mountain’s deteriorated state he forgot Zephyr was scheduled to go into heat any day now. The Ministry opted long ago to pay for a flight for them if Mountain was away, rather than deal with an aggravated air ghoul who would take their frustrations out on the abbey and all who stumbled across their path.

If Mountain let out a few extra tears at the thought of his mate, already on edge from their own rising hormones, putting their needs aside to care for him, well, neither of them speak on it.

Eventually, Zephyr convinces Mountain to leave the safety of the bunk and retreat to their hotel room. It involves a lot of gentle encouragement and a few filthy promises for when he’s feeling better. Mountain can’t smell anything, so he misses the slight bite to Zeph’s scent, the telltale sign of the beginning of a heat that they push down forcibly with sheer willpower, knowing Mountain is in no shape to fulfill their needs at this moment.

They share a bath, slightly hotter than Zephyr would prefer, but the steam helps to clear Mountain’s congested airways and the warmth soothing the aching in his bones. It’s intimate in a nonsexual way, how Zephyr lathers up a washcloth and takes their time rinsing the sweat and sickness from Mountain’s skin.

Mountain’s soon dry and in his pyjamas, a steady hand at the small of his back guiding him to the bed in the centre of the hotel room. True to their word, Zephyr had created a fine nest, bringing blankets from their den at home to create a soft spot for them to connect with each other. Mountain falls into the pile, burrowing his way to the perfect spot and collapsing into the down pillows.

Zephyr seamlessly joins Mountain, wrapping their arms around him in a big spoon position. It is something Mountain usually takes up in their shared bed, but his need for comfort is apparent and Zephyr isn’t too put out by getting to hold their mate in their arms like this.

Mountain falls asleep to the soft hums vibrating from Zephyr’s chest, his own purrs mixing in at the same tempo, every single part of their being made for each other.

_________

Mountain wakes up, lying awkwardly on a couch too small for his big frame. He’s confused, disoriented, and doesn’t remember where he is for far longer than he’d like to admit.

His brain feels foggy, his eyes landing on a bottle of water left on the table in front of him, the condensation having dripped to the table, creating a small puddle of liquid around the container.

The bottle brings back the memory of Zephyr braiding his hair on this very couch, enthusiastically agreeing with Rain as the water ghoul tried to force some cold medication in Mountain’s mouth. He remembers putting up a good struggle, managing to knock Rain back a few steps before Dew intervened. With Zephyr yanking on his hair, tilting his head back and Dew lying on top of him, bodily restraining his movements, Rain was able to slide home a few of the abnormally large pills. Mountain fought valiantly, but Rain pulled a demonic move covering his mouth and pinching his nose until he was forced to swallow, begrudgingly and with a promise of murder in his eyes. 

Apparently, the cold medication was exactly what he needed. While he isn’t at one hundred percent, he feels the best he can remember feeling for the last week. His achy bones are no more, and he can even breathe through his nose a little, picking up the lingering scent of his mate all over his body.

A loud noise from out the hallway catches his attention, and Mountain realizes that he had the best nap of his life in the green room of the venue they were set to perform at tonight.

Except, no one else is hustling around in the usual pre-show panic.

The green room is usually filled with excitement and adrenaline, packed with bodies, as Swiss hogs the mirror to apply his black lipstick. But it’s empty, the remnants of the pre-show hurricane evident.

Mountain hears the opening rift of Kaisarion and bolts up from the couch, looking around wildly for his costume, but it’s nowhere to be found. He can’t believe they didn’t wake him up, what the actual fuck is going on. 

He gets to the side of the stage much quicker than he would have in the state he was mere hours ago, looking out from the wings as his band feeds the energy to the crowd before them.

His eyes shift over his pack, watching as they back up Papa who’s already pandering to the sea of people. A crash of cymbals pulls his attention to the back middle stage, to his drum set.

It’s like a punch to his gut, but in the best way possible, seeing who is undeniably his mate, in his costume, playing his kit.

Zephyr isn’t a small statured ghoul by any means, it’s just that Mountain’s well… Mountainous.

His costume fits his mate poorly, they’ve rolled the arms up, displaying the sleeves of delicate illustrations depicting the fall of Christ, ink woven in their skin that Mountain has spent countless hours admiring. The pant legs bunch up where they fall, too much extra material with nowhere else to go.

Mountain’s heart skips a beat when he realizes Zephyr is shoeless, exactly how he normally performs.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Zeph is a natural, they’ve spent long hours in the rehearsal room with Mountain, watching him work through tricky sections or just putting his own twist on Papa’s work. He’s filled with love, admiration, and just an all-around feeling of mine while watching his mate perform with his pack.

Mountain eventually just settles on the ground of the side stage, sitting cross-legged and just enjoying the show from his secret little viewpoint. He laughs along with the jokes Papa pulls out of his ass, his smile unshakeable as he watches Dew tease Rain from this angle. Swiss is chaotic, he usually only sees him leave his platform from the corner of his eye, unsure of what exactly the multi ghoul gets up to, but now he has his answers. He’s usually so focused on his own performance he doesn’t get the chance to just sit and watch the magic happen, and it is magical, the atmosphere they craft together and the beautiful music they create.

During Miasma, Zephyr opts out of a solo in favour of handing Dew and Phantom a drumstick each. Mountain grins wildly, watching lovingly as Zeph orchestrates with their free hands while keeping rhythm with the kick drum. They encourage Dew and Phantom to bang away at the snare and cymbals, Mountain cringing slightly at the force of some of the hits. A little wear and tear won’t tarnish the memory working its way into the deep recesses of his brain though, as the utter joy and happiness bubbles over into a delighted, trilling laugh when Zeph tosses him a smirk and secret little wave.

[deansawthetvglow]

Anonymous questions

1- do you write?

2- what’s something (show/ship/character/type of post etc) that shows up on your dash that you HATE

3- are you surviving a year in the zombie apocalypse (they don’t run)

1- omg this question makes me SAD bc YES i DO!! i used to write a lot more on tumblr--but u can find my writing in #my writing on here and also on ao3 if u do the tiniest bit of digging on my blog :) mainly short short fics and abandoned works <3

2. ermmmm idk! i have curated my dash pretty well--if i had to pick, i think i dont like seeing iwtv -- but thats just bc i havent seen it yet :)

3. hm....honestly, if i had an objective i would survive--im a very hard worker and i think if i had a goal i could pursue it everyday--but if i didnt have a purpose, i would prob just let the world dissolve around me until zombies found me in my basement watching spn or hockey fhehdehej

[mashnotesofthemythopoeic]

Fic Masterpost

So, in the spirit of full disclosure - all the X-Files fiction I’ve ever written, as memory serves. And some thoughts on how this fine fandom has taught me to write. 

Starbuck (circa 1998)

I’m not kidding, this is really embarrassing, absolute beginner stuff, but we all start somewhere and it’s interesting in an evolutionary sense. I found these on  Zuffy's X-Files Homepage.

Without The Bee  -  I couldn’t bring myself to look at this one. That title says it all. 

Agents of Change: Return from Antarctica  -  Obsessions—the Scott Expedition and the X-Files—collide. Rough early days, but probably with hints of potential. A legit turkey of a title! 

Penumbra 1998 - 2009

(I’m not going to bother with Gossamer links.) Learning the ropes as I went. Oblivious to so, oh so many things. Rickety, untrained writing, but mindlessly in love with creatively inspired by the churlish charms of our two razzle-dazzle creatures of the night. 

Contact High  -  The last line was plagiarized, pure and simple, from one of Gerald Durrell’s books about his childhood in Corfu. It’s bothered me ever since, so the big thing I took from this experience: by all means steal the rhythm of something, but at least change a word or two. 

Vespers  -  Very stoned ramblings. Inspired by John Leonard’s X-Files essay in The Nation that I’d managed to extract off a microfiche in a university library. I have a soft spot for this fic, probably because Khyber picked it very analytically apart, which was like having Jonathan Galassi or someone suddenly pay attention to you. He introduced me to 'show, don't tell', a paralyzing concept if ever there was one, which I yet only fitfully grasp.

Black Hole Season  -  Still breakin’ all the rules. This one was hugely popular, and amidst all the ballyhoo, Punk Maneuverability emailed me and quietly said: ‘Please pick a POV and a tense and stick with it’—vastly important advice that I was probably too full of myself to heed. This one won a Spooky award, one of the greatest moments of my life that I had to keep completely to myself (therein lies the painful crux of fanfiction.)

Parabiosis  -  I was eating cereal and flipping through the dictionary, and there it was: parabiosis. Who knows what it means. I didn’t have a computer, and was working in the mountains, so I wrote the whole thing out on paper several times, unimaginable now. It flowed through my brain as I scrambled through the woods in the evenings. Nothing will ever be that easy again.

Honeymoon Video  -  Promising title, not much there.

Blue-Sky Conjecture  -  unfinished Scully/Kresge

The Cretan Paradox  -  Americana. JET sent me an ear of corn from a corn maze, because she’s thoughtful like that. 

Free Beer Night at the Astrodome  -  Cut years ago in despair out of Heuvelmans’; I think part of it went back in. 

Fathoms Five  -  In one of Gerald Durrell’s books about his childhood in Corfu, his brother steps in a swamp and says that his shoe is ‘full of fathoms five’, so that’s where I got that Shakespearean misquote. I resisted writing this for a long time, but it would creep into my mind as I was falling asleep. I think this is a pretty good story, but it could have used one more draft, so since then, I’ve resolved never to rush to post. Events of this year kind of date this story now. However, it’s rather pleasant to read about a careless, joint-passing, COVID-free 2020.

Fathoms Five Outtakes and gag reels - Sorry about the glitchy old site and bad font.

A random smut biscuit  -  Uncharacteristic, I know!

Octopods  - I loved this one, but it never fit in anywhere.

Maundy Thursday  

Untitled Snippet 

World’s Tiniest Zombie Fic

∩dsᴉpɐᴉsᴉnɯ -  Very flawed, because it was written and posted under a fund-raiser time crunch. I really should overhaul it. The X-Files was ending and I was so depressed when I wrote it, and that’s an unfortunate tincture to saddle a story with. 

The Inscrutable Pair  -  How The X-Files taught me to embrace ambiguity. Goreyesque nonsense à la Gashlycrumb Tinies that also troubles itself to rip off Eliot and Homer. 

(7-Year Cold-Turkey Hiatus From the X-Files)

Gave away DVDs, got some perspective, did a little growing up, tried and failed to write a screenplay, two novels, etc. Then they put The X-Files on Netflix. One lonely night, I thought: what could it hurt to watch Darkness Falls? 44 minutes later, with shaking hands, going for the hard stuff—Redux II. Lol, the hard stuff of ancient philes. 

The Mythopoeic*  2016  - 

Heuvelmans’ On the Track - The nearly suicidal heartbreak that surrounds this story—it was the first X-Files fic I got bogged down in and couldn’t finish, and it left me with a huge mental stigma—sweetens its completion. Under its shadow I tried to become a Real Writer, without success. Give things time, I learned. Just keep working hard. The initial failure of this story taught me stuff that I now wouldn’t trade for anything. 

*I came back just intending to hang out with Philes, and didn’t want to make a big deal, and had no intention of posting fic, so I gave little thought to the name. But, characteristically ostentatious name, check. Still keepin’ it real, pure and self-taught, a bit closer to what Chuck Palahniuk calls a ‘kitchen-table MFA’. Check.

But what I really want to say is this. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to try writing if I hadn’t been in this marvelous fandom, having the method and the means demonstrated all around me by wonderfully competent and encouraging writers for whom I felt such reverence that having them reach out or comment on stuff was earth-shaking. They showed the way, and I followed. Hands on my heart, friends, I owe you everything.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Group Camp Out (Full Version)

A continuation and full fic for my drabble. Commissioned of me to basically finish it, so here we are with sex scene included! I’ve also taken the past drabble and added it here so it’s a full fic so ya don’t need to go back and read the other half, bc it’s all here babey!

Summary:  You save an alpha licker from an injury, you're not sure why your foolish empathetic brain does it, but now you have a pack of lickers who follow you like you're their royalty. It's all fun and games until you get horny!

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit Like :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Resident Evil

Relationship: Group of lickers/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gender neutral but has a vulva, monster fucking involved obviously, double penetration happens so stuff like ass play is involved, and mentions of normal zombie apocalyptic stuff!

Words: 3.4k

_______________

When the world went to shit, you didn’t expect this to all be the cause of a harmless sounding virus named after a letter. It had all seemed fine, one day you were grocery shopping and whining to your friend about how you wanted chocolate, the next you were covering your mouth to stop your sobs as moans and groans entered the city like a stampede of brainwashed cattle.  

You had no training with a gun, the only weapon you really knew how to use was a pitchfork- and that was the lamest thing you had going for you at this point in time. Running a farm? That’s something you could do. Shooting a gun? That...was something you probably should have learned how to do.  

But how were you supposed to know a zombie apocalypse was going to happen?!  

Apparently, your farming skills and way with animals- or animal-like creatures, would come very in handy in your survival.  

~Rest under the cut~

It had started with one of the creatures. It looked like...an inside out human. Absolutely terrifying with its sharp teeth, sticky flesh and its brain matter completely exposed. Its long tongue maybe the length of its own body when you watched it zip around a nearby rabbit and drag it towards its terrifying  chompers . Its hands were no longer hands, five large claws dug into the ground with each step as it turned its head this way and that. It was blind. It couldn’t see you. So, you had stayed still, shaking before you caught sight of its limp.  

On its hind right leg, it was bleeding, it made such a sad sound as it jerked the dead weight forward, turning its head towards the pain. There was something...so sad and human about the reaction that your instincts told you to comfort, to reach out and inspect the pain.  

It could have gotten you killed the way you had reached out, but through desperate pleading and begging after being near leapt upon by the giant beast and made dinner, you were given a chance.  

And now? Now you had five of these inside out creatures following you around like you were the royalty of their pack.  

~Rest under the cut~

It certainly had taken you quite a bit to get used to it. How beastly they were, yet so very human. How deep the virus ran in them, you weren’t sure. They could not speak to you, they hissed, growled, huffed, and grunted, but otherwise your languages did not mesh. Names were not given, you didn’t try to ask either, it seemed like whatever of their past they had was erased.  

What you did know is that like this? You were safe. The one with the injury now had a permanent limp but with some gauze and bra hooks you made a makeshift sling and they could walk on it better. This one also brought you food, its tongue rolled up around canned foods that comically rolled out of their mouth with little bits of saliva and them cocking their head towards your direction waiting for your thanks.  

Another liked to stay near you at all times, pressed to your side near constantly and making small sounds in reply to your chatter. These days you talked a lot, quietly at least as you’d tell them where you were from, what you were before all this happened. You’d even been able to go back to your old farm, heart breaking at the destruction of the fences, but at least your home had been mostly intact. Bodies of the infected littered parts of the yard, but with your pack around you none of the alive ones dared come close.  

Your home became a home again. With five beasts that liked to climb on the walls and steal what you guessed smelled like you. You find one with a shirt over their head, crooning and rolling about in it. You find another nosing at your blankets with its mouth parted as if scenting it. Another finds your underwear drawer.  

Tonight, you’re quietly in your room. You’ve gathered blankets and other mattresses around the house to make a nest on the floor for everyone to gather onto. You’re sure they have no need to sleep, but you have a need for comfort.  

The one with a limp is curled at your side, their skin smooth as they rub their face at the crook of your neck. It would have grossed you out in the past, but now you don’t really think about it.  

Another lounges across your body at your thighs, perched with arms crossed underneath its body like a big cat protecting its pride.  

You’re mildly drifting, not really thinking when you feel the sharpness of teeth brush your throat and your entire body stiffens. Your yelp of mild terror sets off everyone in the room, everyone on high alert. You hear two different hisses, another making this almost chirrup sound, the one on your lap noses at your thigh in confusion and the one at your neck has frozen completely.  

“Did you just bite me?!” You breathe out, anxiety flaring up- did the virus pass in bites?! Was it just the smoke that caused the changes? If you got bitten what happens? You’re on high alert yourself, seeing the others come and inspect you as you push lightly at the one at your side so you can raise a hand to your neck and jerk it into your view to inspect your palm.  

No blood. And you didn’t feel a mark. It must have just been a scrape is all. As your anxiety dies down, so do all of theirs, everyone going back to their posts. You lie back again, shakily exhaling and gently reaching for the licker that had been at your neck. They croon immediately, almost like an apology as they go back to your neck.  

It takes five minutes for it to happen again, a light scrape, and you pass it off as an accidental thing. You stiffen ever so gently, but a large arm over your chest gives an almost gentle squeeze, as if telling you it’s alright. It’s just the smallest motion, the tiniest, but it eases you. Enough that when it happens again, you shudder this time and recline your neck to the opposite side to give them more room.  

Their hips adjust at the side of your waist and you hear curious noises around you. You don’t pay it really any mind until their hips adjust again and you feel something almost slimy brush your side. Another scrape of teeth, a low whine, a nudge-  

Your eyebrows knit together, flexing your fingers around their side and making a murmured ‘huh?’ back at them curiously. Another adjust- a hump? And you figure out rather quickly why and what is happening.    

“Oh!” You exclaim, your tone flustered, and that gathers everyone’s attention. The one on your lap peeks to see what’s happening, and you can hardly see them until you feel a nudge at your crotch that makes your cheeks flare red.  Another swarms your other side, nosing at your warmed cheek and cooing until another joins.  

You realize quickly you’re surrounded by horny lickers.  

And wouldn’t it be rude to not gladly accept it?  

--

You note that two of them do not come and join. They linger off to the side and seem to be enjoying the rest on the far side of the combined mattresses. You don’t mind in the slightest, not when you have three beasts curiously poking at different sides of you.

The one across your lap, the leader of the pack, has now nudged your legs open. Fitting between your spread thighs as huge claws hook into the fabric of your panties and yank. The sharpness of its claws are aimed upwards, avoiding your flesh and effectively shredding the fabric. You’d only been in a tanktop and panties anyhow, not many clothes on your body to begin with, but it still makes you feel...exposed.

The one who’d been at your neck and humping your side is growled at by the leader, causing them to chuff and move upwards more towards your head instead. The third of them nudges one of your arms to go up until you take the hint, raising your hands above your head and allowing the one near up above your head to press your wrists down with its massive claws.

“H-hey-” You whine out when you feel the curious nosing at your crotch. You’re shamefully wet, your hips lifting upwards when warm breath fans across your cunt. Your face flushes when you peek down, seeing the alpha of the pack nosing at your crotch and making such sweet little sounds as it inhaled you.

That’s when its long tongue comes sliding out, slick and long, maybe two and a half fingers in thickness much like a vine. At first it just slides over your entire cunt before slipping between your lower lips, lapping at you heavily with only a short amount of the entire length of its tongue. At first you sigh softly, tipping your head back in pleasure. Which must be an invitation for the one at your side just watching, for it takes this opportunity to lets its tongue loll out and lick over your cheek.

The wet sensation makes you wince with a soft, surprised sound. Causing all three to erupt in little concerned noises. Even the alpha between your legs popping its head up as they wait for you to say something. “N-no! No, no, it’s okay, it’s alright. Just- surprised, is all?” You speak in a shaky voice, but your tone must be satisfactory.

The alpha quickly goes back to lapping at you. Massive claws curling under your thighs as if it’d done this before. And maybe, maybe they had? Maybe they remembered some sort of their past ministrations like this? As is they were starting to learn certain phrases or keywords you were saying. Maybe memories of actions could come to their minds?

You’re immediately thrown from your thoughts when the alpha’s tongue presses into you, being so mindful of its teeth when they rest their face closer to your cunt. Practically letting you hump their face to get dual stimulation on your clit as a whine exits your lips. And once more you feel the tongue on your cheek, licking over towards your neck before coming up to your mouth.  

When you part your lips to allow entry, you’re nearly choked by the eagerness of the tongue. Your body lurches slightly, but you hear a growl overhead and a harder press to your wrists that keeps you still underneath them all.

You can’t move.

You’re like a toy.

That’s how it feels, but you know one sudden jerk or noise of discontent from you and they’d all stop. It’s what keeps you relaxed now when you feel the alpha’s tongue slithering further into you, folding in on itself to appear thicker as it plunges into you with quickness. It felt like a really wet, slippery cock. Filling you out and ensuring it didn’t snag or cause any discomfort from how wet it was.  

Moans spill from your throat that seem to delight the one with its tongue in your mouth. It curls its tongue around yours, feeling over your non-threatening teeth and even sometimes dipping more towards your throat as if it was fucking your mouth. It never chokes you, as if testing your gag reflex with small, little brushes and dips.

The one holding you down makes these pleased little sounds in reply to your own noises, occasionally dipping down to nose at your hair or bop your forehead with its face. It’s affectionate in its own little way, and you’d respond, if you didn’t have a tongue down your throat or fucking into your pussy right now. Instead you can only flex your fingers, squeezing onto one of its claws in each hand to try and reciprocate the affection.

Judging by how it makes this soft little chirrup sound, you can only hope that means they understood.

A nuzzle at your crotch only sends warmth throughout your body. You feel a twist inside of you, as if the alpha is trying to make its tongue bigger, fatter, to stretch you out further. You whine out, just in time for the one to your side to retract its tongue from your mouth and move overtop you. You let out a soft sound of confusion as its legs straddle you, its back facing your head and its own head dipping to check out what the alpha is doing. It obscures your view, but even more so, you see its cock hanging heavily for you.

Their dicks, as you are just now coming to find out, do not look like a normal human’s. Instead, they look like almost long tapered tentacles. At least this one was long. Looking maybe seven or eight inches in length, it matches its wet skin tone, yet it still had balls hanging where they normally should be. Just that its cock was long, a little thin like you could wrap your fingers around it with ease and touch fingertips, and was tapered rather than thick and rounded with a head. And that it seemed sentient in a way with how it could wiggle and jerk on its own, now that you’re watching it.

Odd, but definitely workable.

You watch its cock with interest hovering near your head, but not close enough. You can only feel how the large claws circling your thighs move to rest under your thighs instead, pushing up until you’re almost folded in half despite the other licker, who you are fondly calling ‘omega’ in your head. You make a soft sound, already having been achingly close to cumming, but the new angle provides a better press upwards into you.

Then you feel another tongue joining, licking down where the other tongue was in a slow fashion until it finds your ass. Your face flushes red, a moan dropping from your throat at the thin, slippery penetration. Shamefully it makes you cum near immediately, your body jerking into an arch as best as it could in this position. Despite the fact your body is shaking as you cum with soft cries, you quickly realize why you’re in such an odd position.

Because with your arms held above your head, and a beast’s pressure atop your body, and one holding you in half from below; You can’t move.

You’re over sensitive when the alpha keeps licking at your cunt. Twisting its tongue and pulling it out halfway where you can hear the audible panting and swallowing. When its face consistently keeps nuzzling at your engorged, sensitive clit, you sob outwardly and squeeze tight onto the claws keeping your arms down. Again, the affectionate gesture from the one who you are deeming ‘Beta’ holding you down, is offered with a gently forehead press to your own. It distracts you briefly from the wiggling into your ass, knowing that there was no ‘end’ like there was in your pussy.

Oh, you could only hope that the omega realized that.

Now you have two tongues folded into you. The one in your ass seems to be a good way in, nothing overbearing, but that must be because they’ve folded their tongue in a twisting motion to feel thicker. It stretches you open, the stimulus between their tongues both pumping in and out of you in tandem near eye watering. You think you’re whining yourself hoarse, your throat clenching as you grunt when over sensitivity turns into blinding pleasure.

Your second orgasm comes with your heart pounding and practically no sound leaving you. Your insides clench and flutter, only seeming to make both lickers make happy and delighted chittering sounds. Even being able to blearily see the omega’s cock jerk in front of you, seeming to almost curl on itself and dribbling a thin, white, sticky fluid down onto your chest in a way you can only assume is it being aroused.

You can’t find words, tossing your head back to bare your throat and cry out when their tongues keep going. The beta above you leans down to nose at your throat, bending itself in half to coo near your ear and make soft little noises as if to ease you. Even as you tense your entire body and tears pour down your face from too much stimulation.

The third orgasm you have is your brief release from their grasps. You’re moved around onto almost all fours, feeling like you’re made of goo from how limp your body is. Your arms are pulled forward, above your head, held by the same beta who seemed more interested in keeping you still than joining himself. You’ve got your head in their lap, resting your cheek on one of its thighs as you quiver with anticipation.

You hear the coos and growls behind you and can only assume that they’re moving around. You’re not sure who is who, unable to look behind you, but you feel one of them slide under you onto its back. Feeling sharp teeth skim across your exposed chest with interest but not piercing flesh. Large claws hold onto your thighs to sink you downwards onto their cock with ease making your breath hitch as it sinks into your pussy.

It’s not thick or large, but the fact that it seems to be...almost curling and moving on its own? That adds to the sensation. Then you feel another join on your back, almost mounting you like a canine might with a few humps missing before you feel its cock slip into your ass.

There’s really no mercy in their movements. Animalistic, the one on your back starts fucking you raw without abandon, the one underneath you clawing at your hips to hold you still despite the fact the one above you is rocking your body. You feel occasionally nudges and licks at your nipples, brushes of sharp teeth and curiously pleasured chitters coming from above and below you. You’re so fucked out you can’t even think, your throat hurts from your moaning, and all you can do is press your face into the beta’s lap and hold on tight for the ride.

“Fuck-” You sob out when the one mounting you starts pounding their hips harder against you. The wet slap of flesh on flesh and the curling inside of your body making your fingers clench into fists underneath the large claws holding your hands. That seems to only make the ones fucking you more excited, feeling like you’re being pounded near in sync, split apart from below.

When you cum for your last time, you’re so weak from it that you almost blackout. You can vaguely hear the animalistic noises above and below you, feeling the one beneath you stilling before you feel something almost...rounder plunge into your body?

Did...

Did they have KNOTS?!

They must have appeared after they were moving inside you, because it’s about as thick as three fingers, girthy and plunging into you. You sob out at the over filled feeling when the second does the same to your ass, sticky wet warmth filling your body with no hope of escape until either would move.

You feel a lick at the back of your neck after a moment, then a nuzzle at your chest, then a gentle bonk on the back of your head from a face. You can’t help the tired laugh that buzzes from you, rolling your hips to feel the resistance of the ones inside you. “Y-yeah- yeah, you guys are welcome. Just...Just make sure I don’t fall asleep, kay?”

You hear a soft noise from the beta gently nuzzling at the back of your head, but the knots don’t seem to stay very long inside you. After a few moments the one mounting you manages to tug itself out with a bit of a grunt from you, feeling the warmth spilling out of you and down onto the licker beneath you. It doesn’t seem to mind too much, not until it’s wiggling to get itself out from under you and popping its own knot out.

By the time you’re released, you can hardly tell who’s who trying to move you around. Like a limp noodle, you let them manipulate your overworked, naked body back to lying down. Finding yourself with one tucked to your side, another across your lap in a way, and the other by your head in a little nesting pile.

Briefly, before you fall asleep, you wonder if you should worry about future zombie babies.

[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

-

-

-

MASTERLIST

[burgerkang000]

Who needs a soulmate?

also this is a wooyoung fic

yes, ill be adding the read more thingy

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa (if anyone else wanna be tagged, tell me )

enjoy? :/

THIS FIC IS BEARABLE BECAUSE OF @mingination​ so, actually most of my fics are bearable cuz of her so uhm go hype her up?

In a world where soul mates exist, your soul found amity whenever you were with Jung Wooyoung. You always thought people had soul mates because it brings peace to their souls. You thought it exists because when two people were together; their souls go on an adventure, an adventure that was never the same for a pair, or even a trio of people. 

But all that changed when you met Wooyoung. It happened when you were dragged outside by your friend, because you tend to hole up in the dorms. As she was dragging you to her car, you bumped into a stranger holding a house plant, the glass pot shattered and the soil scattered, making quite a mess.

“Ah, that hadn’t had set yet.” The stranger exclaimed. You had no idea why he was so calm about it as you expected him to lash out any moment, but instead he smiled at you, displaying his beautiful pearly white teeth and told you not to worry about it.

You stared at him dumbly as he tries to pick up the shattered glass, and that’s when you decide to speak up.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You kneel down to help him with the glass all the while expressing how sorry you are, and rush up to your room to grab cleaning supplies to clean the soil. After the both of you cleaned up the mess, you offered to go plant shopping with him, to pay back for the one you clumsily broke.

Of course, he refused, but you insisted and he gave in.

Your friend had seemed to leave, leaving you to make small talk with the stranger.

Later that night, you shrieked at your friend for leaving you alone with the handsome stranger and she laughed it off leaving you absolutely furious.

The day that you had planned to go to the greenhouse, Woo contacted you and said that there was a change of plans, you were confused but agreed anyway. But you were a little surprised when he took you to the flower shop, where the enthusiastic florist explained the meaning behind all the flowers Woo had picked. You had enjoyed yourself very much that day, surrounded by the scent of different flowers and the rays of sunshine that had brought a specific kind of warmth to the store, even though this was going to burn your savings for a good whole month and you’d have to stick to ramen if you wanted to pay rent for the shared college dorm you were in. When you were done picking flowers, Woo ended up paying, saying that your company was enough as a payback for breaking his plant.

Before he dropped you off at your dorm, you were shocked when he handed you the flowers he bought and your eyes widened as he leaned in closer to leave a soft kiss on your cheek and whispered to look forward to his texts. As he left you stood there dumbly, blushing profusely and unable to comprehend what just happened. And that night you went to bed with a smile on your face, sniffing the flowers which now were placed on your bedside table.

 .

.

.

That was how it started; now you have a theory on what soul mates are; they’re people who were created to be perfectly adaptable to you, but the chances you find them were 0%, except for the few people who would search everywhere for their soulmates and find them. You’ll never meet your soul mate in this world or the next one, because there is a definition of perfect for the universe, but everyone else’s definition of perfect is different.

And even if you do meet your soulmate, there is no guarantee that they’re the one for you, since the universe is changing. And it’s about time it changes the rules set for humans.

You find amenity when you’re with Jung Wooyoung and that’s all the reassurance you need.

 .

.

.

Even though your theory has helped ease (like the tiniest bit) of your frustration over the resounding problem which was, what if Woo finds his soulmate? The thought of that suffocates you; you turn into a human zombie pondering through assumptions, and possibilities. Until one day Woo sits you down and asks what’s wrong.

“What would you do if you find your soulmate?” you ask quietly. He shakes his head, conveying silently that your worries are unnecessary or maybe he’s disappointed in you for thinking things like that, but it’s not like you can help it.

“I’d tell them, no thank you, I have a lovely girlfriend who wants the universe to change its rules and I stand by it.”

You lightly hit his arm and huff out a laugh.

“I’m serious”

“I’m Wooyoung”

‘’I’m sick of your bad jokes” and as you get up to leave, he pushes you back down, places a hand under your chin and says-

“I won’t leave you for the fucking world. You hear that?” 

 .

 .

.

After a few weeks of dating and becoming official, Woo took you to visit his friends, who were the reason you met in the first place, the innocent plant was asked to be delivered by one of his friends, you needed to thank them, since the plant was long gone.

And, you’ve heard a lot about his seven friends, who share an apartment house, with four rooms. When you were led inside, you were attacked with greetings, compliments and questions; you tried to reply to all of them, you really did. They were more intimidating in the beginning, but now you wonder what was it about them that made you feel that way.

Jongho was a person you would always avoid, you were mostly shy (read: terrified) of him. But one day you were eating an apple, and he wanted to show you a trick. And you were beyond shocked when he just broke it into two halves with his bare hands. And every day after that, you’d bring an apple when you feel like it, and pass it to Jongho and tell something utterly ridiculous like

The cat ate my knife

I’m too broke to buy a knife

It’s banned to cut apples with knives; I heard it on the news

And he would roll his eyes and do it for you anyways. 

Once you handed him a melon, and you were surprised that he attempted to break it open. He banged it on the table twice and glared at you for making him look weak; you ran as he chased you around with a melon.

Seonghwa was your favourite. He’d come over, be annoyed at the mess you and Woo made and then proceed to clean it up. But all jokes aside, you really liked Seonghwa, and he does laundry too!

Hongjoong, you assumed would be very authoritative, was actually an adorable goofball. And you enjoyed teasing him about his height.

Yunho along with Mingi were the dorky and mischievous pair, and always managed to earn a yell from Seonghwa for dirtying the place with their ridiculous pranks.

Yeosang, who was Wooyoung’s friend for over 5 years, appeared to be a very quiet person and somewhat normal compared to the others. That's what most people would think anyways, but once he opens his mouth you’d regret ever calling him quiet. The guy knew how to expose people better than Dispatch did.

San, now San you have beef with.

Because he takes Woo away from you, and you keep on complaining to no one in particular-

“This is not fair-” you ramble off

“Look I’m only helping, it’s for the greater good-“

“Oh? What would that be?” you shot.

“Woo, likes it when you get all jealous”

Your cheeks heat up and then you angrily look at Woo who shrugs and says “I didn’t say a thing”

You storm out the room and hear something along the lines of

“He also likes it when you get all hot headed; I’m helping you get laid, your welcome….”

.

.

.

 You and Woo have fights too, But you have an unspoken, but definitely existing rule; communication. Sure, there might be couples out there who can guess what the other person is feeling, or what the other person wants-

But for you and Woo, communication is key and you like it that way.

.

.

.

It’s impossible to wake Woo on Sundays, so you have taken the matter into your own hands.

Despite being adults who have different jobs and no longer go to school, you aggressively shake him and yell

“Woo, time for school, you missed the bus, wake up”

Or

“There’s a fire, the cat is dying”

.

.

.

“I love you”

 You were the first one to put it out there. You just blurted it out one night, lying in bed, when you were lying next to each other, hands intertwined in between you both, just staring and outlining each other with your eyes. You were ready to drive off the nearest cliff when-

“It’s obvious I do too, no words necessary”

You were suddenly embarrassed and rolled over to the other side to hide the colour of your cheeks, yanking your hand away and muttering-

“Great or else you can find me at the bottom of a cliff with your damaged car.”

“Didn’t know your life was on the line”, he says back hugging you and grabbing your hand back.

“It’s clearly an exaggeration, dumbass”

He chuckles and both of you fall into a silence of nothing but the sound of your breathing and the clock ticking. And right when you were almost asleep, you hear him mutter I love you, I love you, I love you and press a kiss to the side of your head before pulling you closer and tightening his hold around you.

You think you’ve never felt more content, sharing a complex emotion, which is filled with other complex emotions and being understood, it was profound to be understood.

Who needs a soul mate, you’ve got Jung Wooyoung and that was more than enough for you.

.

.

.

[myownworstenemyyy]

All I Wanted - Part 6

a Javier Peña x Reader series

Word count: 4k  (gif by @pedropcl​)

Warnings: FEELS, violence, mentions of blood/cuts/bruises, insinuation of having sexually assaulted someone (like, what?), PAIN, #justhospitalthings, dat angsty angst y’all know I love

S/O: my super lovely Tumblr wife Sarinaaa @captainclod (she writes AMAZING Pedro fics, go check her out - respectfully)

A/N: this is all from Javi’s POV, right after Part 5 (with flashbacks of course) Also, sorry if some of the medical lingo is super technical or completely incorrect - i hope y’all enjoy this one! Thanks for reading 💜 (masterlist in bio)

Part 6 – Feeling Sorry

“Wait - they put her into a coma?” Javier asks Connie incredulously, his hands propped on his hips. He’s been in the waiting room for hours, worrying, hoping, and sometimes even praying - though he only did that once Steve left him alone to interrogate one of your captors.

“Yes, a medically-induced coma. She suffered severe trauma to her brain and chest, Javi. The doctors were able to control the bleeding in her abdomen but all the bruising needs to heal on its own while she sleeps. She–” Connie takes a second to clear the lump that’s formed in her throat, “God, I don’t know how she survived all that,” Connie says softly, a pained expression plaguing her features. 

Javier runs a shaky hand through his hair as he closes his eyes, but all he sees is your bruised and battered body being rushed on a gurney into the emergency room.

“Javi, you can’t come back here - it’s hospital staff and patients only,” Connie tells him quietly but urgently. She places her hands on his chest when he continues to follow the group of people wheeling you into the ER. 

Steve had called Connie - who works as a nurse in the hospital - when they found you in that cabin, informing her of the extent of your wounds, so she could prepare hospital staff for your arrival. She met them at the hospital and Javier felt the tiniest bit of comfort knowing she would be there with you when he couldn’t. 

“Connie,” Javier’s voice cracks when he looks towards her, reluctantly peeling his eyes away from the double doors they rolled you through just minutes before. For the first time in his life, he feels completely and utterly lost. When he’d barged into that room and seen you tied to that chair - seemingly lifeless - his whole world had shattered.  

“I know, Javi. We are going to save her, but you need to stay out here, OK? I’ll come back with any news as soon I know anything,” Connie squeezes his arms in reassurance before rushing through the doors where hopefully - God, did Javi hope with every fabric of his being - the doctors could save you, even if it was only so he could have the chance to tell you-

“Javi?” Connie asks hesitantly when he doesn’t respond. He nods to let her know he’s still listening, though he’s struggling to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re somewhere in this hospital, fighting to stay alive, and in a coma.

“Can I,” Javier clears his throat before he continues, “Can I see her?” he asks quietly. He grabs Connie’s hand with both of his, whether to plead with her to let him see you or for his own comfort, he’s not sure. 

She gnaws on her bottom lip as she looks behind her to the nurses’ station and back at Javier again. “Give me a second,” is all she says before she walks back to the counter and converses with one of the other nurses for several seconds. Javier remains awkwardly standing in the middle of the waiting room, picking at the bandages Connie had insisted on wrapping around his hand and wrist after seeing them bruised and swollen. He releases a shaky breath, feeling about as weary and hopeless as he looks. 

Connie returns saying, “OK, I can take you back there now, but it’s family-only, so…I had to tell them you were her fiancé,” she says with the slightest of smiles before she continues, “I would’ve said ‘husband’ but I didn’t want you to have a stroke,” she tries for a light chuckle and Javi appreciates her attempt at humor, given the grave situation at hand. And though he’d never tell her, he really wouldn’t have minded if she’d told them he was your husband. His stomach flips just thinking about the hypothetical situation, but he quickly shoves that thought aside to dwell on at another time - like when you’re not lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

He nods in response and motions for Connie to lead the way through the double doors of the intensive care unit. The two of them walk silently down a long hall until they come to a stop in front of the very last door on the left. Javier takes a long, deep breath and motions forward before he’s stopped in his tracks when Connie gently grabs his arm, saying, “It’s - she looks pretty banged up, but she’s stable - for now. I just - wanted to warn you, I guess,” Connie’s sentence dies out when she sees the expression on Javi’s face. He looks like a zombie, the bags under his eyes making him look years older than he is and his hair is sticking out in odd places from him running his hands through it constantly. 

Without a word, Javi turns and pushes the door open slowly, thinking he doesn’t want to wake you - but then he remembers you’re in a coma, so the likelihood of you being woken up by a creaky door is basically nonexistent. He takes about four steps into the room until he sees you lying in the hospital bed. 

His heart nearly stops from the sight of your injured body decorated with an assortment of bruises and bandages, lying completely still - save for the subtle up-and-down movement of your chest. It’s that motion alone that has him moving his feet closer to the bed - she’s breathing, she’s alive, he reassures himself as he slides into the chair that rests by your bedside. He immediately reaches for your hand that’s resting on your thigh above the blanket. But then he stops just before making contact, looking to Connie for permission because he doesn’t want to hurt you in your already-fragile state.

Connie nods softly and takes a couple more steps into the room, closing the door behind her. Javi intertwines your fingers in his and the first thing he notices is that your hand is freezing, so he brings his other hand to cover the top of yours, trying to share his warmth with you. “What are - all these machines?” Javi asks, never looking away from your face.

“She has a couple fractured ribs, but the doctors didn’t think she was strong enough to fix them in surgery, so they’re keeping a close eye on her breathing and heart rate in case–” Connie cuts herself off, unsure if she should proceed with Javier already being so shaken.

“Say it,” he turns his head slightly toward her while keeping his hands intertwined with yours. Connie takes a deep breath through her nose and continues, “in case one of the fractured ribs punctures her lungs, and they need to resuscitate and intubate her - so she can breathe.” Connie looks down at her feet, afraid she might start crying from seeing the fear and pain in Javi’s eyes at hearing how perilous the situation is.

He nods his head, feeling desensitized to everything. He hasn’t really felt much of anything these days - ever since he’d discovered you had been captured. But at that moment, it’s as if he’s not really in his body - he feels your hand in his, slowly becoming warmer by the second, but that’s the only part of his body that has any sort of sensation. Every other part of him is just - numb. 

Javier takes in a shaky breath and doesn’t release it until he’s sure the tears welling in his eyes won’t fall - not in front of Connie, at least. “I’ll leave you alone with her, stay as long as you like,” Connie murmurs as she slowly backs away towards the door. 

“Hey, Connie?” Javi calls after her with a little more strength in his voice. He releases your hand and takes a couple steps until he’s standing in front of Connie. She stops and turns, looking at him expectantly, “Yeah?” He looks down into her now-glassy eyes, trying to convey how much he appreciates everything she’s done for you - for him, “Thank you - I don’t know what would’ve happened - what I would’ve done - if you weren’t here.” He takes her by surprise when he pulls her into a strong embrace. 

Connie slowly reaches her arms around him and returns the hug as they stand like that for a few seconds, each trying to find comfort in the other. When Javi releases her and steps back, he watches Connie wipe her cheeks with her sleeve and sniffle. “Of course, Javi. You don’t have to thank me. I care about her too, and - it kinda sorta is my job to care for the sick and injured,” she laughs lightly and sniffles again. 

Javi nods his head with the smallest of smiles and waves to her as she turns to leave the room.

He stands there facing the door for what feels like hours, but really is just a couple minutes. He can’t help but think that if it were anyone else - maybe even Steve - in that hospital bed right now he wouldn’t hesitate to walk through that door and never come back - not even for a visit. He’s always hated hospitals - hated the way he could practically feel Death lurking around in every room - but as he takes a step closer to the door and closes it with a click, he’s never felt more sure of himself - and more determined to keep Death from so much as thinking about entering your room.

Javier walks back to your bedside and sits in the chair, exhaling heavily. He takes your hand again and brings it to his lips as he leans his elbows on the bed, looking up at your sleeping face. 

“You know,” he whispers, “that first day I saw you at the DEA - all smiles and greeting everyone like you’d known them for years - I thought ‘This girl’s not gonna last a week down here’,“ he smiles at the memory, "Then when I actually met you and I tried to mess with you with the whole ‘what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this,’ line and you smirked at me,” he chuckles to himself, “I thought maybe I had a chance at getting you into my bed. But then - you knocked me on my ass when you said, ‘I’m here to catch Pablo fucking Escobar. And you - what are you doing here?’” Javier closes his eyes as he remembers the details perfectly, “And you offered me the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. It was right at that moment that I knew I was in trouble.”

Javi leans back in the chair, your hand still entwined in his, “I knew I had to stay away from you - that I shouldn’t–” he wipes his other hand down his face with a sigh, “I couldn’t risk spending time with you or getting to know you because I knew - I knew I could fall in love with someone like you,” he’s quiet for a minute as he watches you sleep, seemingly lost in his own thoughts when he murmurs, “Guess I never stood a chance, huh?” 

He throws his head back against the chair with a sigh, feeling the weight of the past few days finally taking its toll on him. It’s only a matter of seconds before he falls into a restless sleep.

“Fuck this,” Javi curses as he shoves his door open and jumps out, barely noticing the DEA vehicles driving toward him. 

“Peña, what the fuck are you doing?!” a fellow DEA agent shouts from one of the approaching vehicles, but Javier doesn’t even acknowledge him as he sprints across the dirt road as quick as he can with the heavy weight of weapons and ammunition lining his bulletproof vest.

He barely stops to think as he approaches the front door of the cabin, taking the few stairs two at a time until he reaches the porch. With his back up against the wall, opposite the hinges of the front door, Javier takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. Please, God - whoever’s listening - please let her be alive. Please don’t take her from me. 

Javier opens his eyes to find his partner approaching with a handful of agents following, all with their guns drawn and ready to take down anyone that walks out the front door unannounced. Steve looks his way with a nod - I’ve got your back, brother, he seems to be telling him when he and the group of agents come to a stop on the other side of the door.

Javi nods back and puts his hand on the door knob slowly turning it and, to his surprise, finds it unlocked. Those smug fuckers didn’t even bother locking the door, Javi thinks as he reaches into his vest for the smoke bomb he pocketed there earlier. Pulling the pin out with his teeth at the same time he opens the door, Javier tosses the bomb inside and waits one second, two seconds, then BANG, the bomb goes off just as it’s intended to and Javi swings the door open with his gun drawn.

He hears the voices of two men cursing, no doubt because of the flash of light that went off just before the smoke erupted from the bomb. He scans the open area quickly, looking for the sources of the voices, when suddenly he’s getting tackled from the left side. He hits the ground with an oof! but quickly throws an elbow into the face of his attacker. The smoke clears as the two men get to their feet. Javier faces Serpiente, who now has blood leaking from his nose thanks to Javi’s elbow. 

"¿Viniste a rescatar a tu novia preciosa?” Serpiente mocks, “¡Adelante! Yo ya la probé y - bueno - ella sí es un polvo MUY deliciosa,” he smiles darkly, baring his blood-coated teeth, and Javi reacts instantly, lunging at the other man with vengeful purpose. Serpiente knows it coming and goes to dodge, landing a punch to Javi’s jaw - but Javi recoils quickly, the assault only stoking the flames of his fiery rage. He shoves his foot downward onto Serpiente’s kneecap, sending him crumpling to the ground in pain. Then Javier really lets him have it. 

Grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, he roughly lifts him to his feet only to pound his fist into the fucker’s face, sending him back to the floor. He continues to pummel Serpiente’s face with his fist, all the while shouting obscenities in two different languages, “MOTHER-” a vicious strike, “-FUCKER,“ another merciless blow, “HIJO DE,” punch to the gut, “PUTA,” Javier slams his fist into the man’s face with a crack. Whether the crack is from Javier’s own hand or the other man’s mangled face, he doesn’t know - and I don’t give a fuck either, he thinks. 

Javier leans into the man’s face, so close their noses bump. "Te voy a matar, cabrón,” he seethes as he clasps his hands around Serpiente’s throat with an iron grip. He’s so blinded by an all-consuming rage that he doesn’t notice Serpiente reach for the blade in his pocket until it’s raised above his head, ready to plunge into Javier’s heart. 

But he doesn’t get the chance to bring the knife down on Javier before a bullet is put between Serpiente’s eyes. Javier snaps his head up and turns around to see Steve, his now-smoking gun aimed at Javier - no, aimed at Serpiente, whose body hits the ground with a dull thud.

Breathing hard from the exertion of the brawl, he struggles to find his bearings until Steve offers him a hand, pulling him upward. “Thanks,” Javier tells his partner, referring to more than just Steve helping him to his feet. Steve nods and tilts his head toward the center of the room. Javier looks around the room and sees another, more hefty-looking, man bleeding from his stomach on the floor across the way, but he couldn’t give two shits about ese cabrón. 

Then he sees you, seated in - no, tied to - a chair in the middle of the space. Javier shoulders passed Steve and doesn’t stop until he’s standing toe-to-toe with you. ¿Dios mio - qué te hicieron? He thinks as he stumbles to his knees in front of you.

Your chest and arms are covered with various cuts and bruises - your shirt having been ripped open, leaving your chest exposed. Your bottom lip is split open and one of your eyes is bruised black. There’s a long gash on the side of your forehead that goes down to your temple and your cheeks are bruised various shades of purple and blue. Javier rests a shaky hand on your knee, “(y/n)? Hey, wake up! C’mon, hermosa, look at me,” he begs, his voice cracking.

When you don’t respond he places his hand on your cheek, careful not to touch the cuts on your face. His heart nearly flies out of his chest when you begin to stir - and even smile. “Please - please open your eyes,” he says your name in a voice that sounds as desperate as he feels.

“Ja-vi,” you croak out when you open your eyes, and he swears he’s never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. Sí, mi amor, soy yo - aquí estoy contigo y nunca te voy a dejar, he thinks, unable to speak because of the emotions overwhelming his senses and gripping his heart like a vice. You’re alive, you’re alive, his brain repeats like a mantra as he stares into your eyes for the first time in what feels like years. 

And when you smile - God, he’s missed that smile - sunbeams burst through his chest. But then the pain-filled expression on your face brings him back to reality and he quickly goes to work untying you from the chair. 

He notices the puddle of blood before he sees the stab wound in your side. The joy and relief he was feeling just moments ago is quickly snuffed out when he looks back to your face and notices for the first time how pale your skin looks compared to the last time he saw you. 

“Javi I–” you start but it quickly turns into a wince of pain, making Javier’s stomach drop. 

“Don’t speak. Save your energy. We’re gonna get you to the hospital,” Javi rushes the words out to prevent you from trying to speak again. It feels as if time is slowing down as he watches your eyelids start to close again. “Tell that ambulance to hurry the fuck up!” Javi shouts to the other agents in the room, his desperate tone instantly putting everyone on edge. No, God, please, he thinks as he cradles your face and looks into your eyes, “Hey, stay awake. You’re gonna be OK, mi amor, I promise,” his eyes frantically search yours for any indication that you’re hearing him. C'mon, hermosa, please - stay with me, but even his thoughts are laced with despair.

Then in a strained voice, “‘Mi - amor’?” you whisper and he nods his head, feeling a small ounce of relief that you’re still responsive. That’s right, mi amor - stay awake, let me see those beautiful eyes, he smiles softly and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone with just a feather of a touch. But his face instantly falls when your eyes close again, mumbling, “m-m - love.” 

“No, no, no. Please, hermosa!” he repeats your name over and over while shaking your shoulders with desperation, but you never open your eyes again. 

Javier wakes with a start, nearly falling out of the chair. His breathing is unsteady and he thinks he’s about to pass out again when suddenly he remembers where he is. He looks up and sees you lying in the hospital bed in the same position as when he first drifted off.

Breathing deeply, he leans his head back against the cushion of the chair and closes his eyes, but he quickly re-opens them because all he sees is your body sagging in that chair, completely lifeless. Fucking dream, he curses to himself as he finds your hand to take in his again. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your pale knuckles, which have gone cold again while he was sleeping. 

How long was I out? He looks at the clock mounted on the wall and his eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Six hours?!” It felt like he was out for ten minutes, not six hours. Fuck - I don’t even feel rested after that fucking nightmare.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a quiet voice comes from behind him. A small, older woman with shoulder-length brown hair walks into the room carrying a tray with what looks like a medicine vial and a long needle. If she wasn’t wearing nurse’s scrubs, Javier would’ve grabbed his gun from his holster - the gun he had to give to Steve to take home because they didn’t allow firearms in the hospital rooms. Oh, right, Javier runs a hand down his face, willing himself to wake the fuck up.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not entirely sure why he says it but feeling the need to anyway. “No se preocupe. You must’ve been in a deep sleep. You didn’t even notice when I came in to check her vitals - twice,” the woman explains with a chuckle. He’s surprised she knows english so well, though the nurse has a bit of an accent, but he’s too tired to question any further. She practically skips to the opposite side of the bed and sets down the tray she’s carrying on the bedside table. 

She turns to face Javi suddenly, saying, “You are Javi, right?” He nods his head, assuming Connie must have told the nurses who he was - he wonders if she also told them he was your “fiancè”. The nurse’s face glows with delight at his answer as she goes to work giving you medication. When she’s done, she looks up at Javi again and says, “I think she’s been dreaming about you,” she offers a sweet smile.

Javi furrows his brow in confusion and responds, “What makes you say that?” He sits up, suddenly very interested in what the woman has to say.

She brings her voice down to a whisper and leans forward like she’s sharing the hottest gossip in town, “Well, I was already in the room when they brought her in here and I heard her say - very clearly - ‘My Javi’ just before they put her to sleep,” the woman ends with a smile so wide, even Javier’s cheeks begin to hurt.

My Javi - he looks down at the very woman they’re talking about like he’s just seeing you for the first time. Your breathing is even, heart rate steady, and he swears there’s a bit more color in your cheeks than there was six hours ago.  

My Javi - your hand is warmer now, so much so that you’re the one providing him warmth. He turns your hand over and kisses your palm, then places it against his cheek as he continues to gaze at you with adoration and awe and love.

My Javi - he closes his eyes and imagines you saying those words, the light bouncing perfectly off your skin and the way your eyes smile at him. He could fall asleep just like this and hope to never wake up if it meant being this close to you.

Javier is so lost in thoughts of you, he doesn’t notice the loud beeps of one of the machines until it turns into a low, consistent tone like a - flat line.

His eyes shoot open just in time to see the nurse smash a button on the wall as she shouts, “CODE BLUE! AYUDA!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Viniste a rescatar a tu novia preciosa? - Did you come to rescue your precious girlfriend?

¡Adelante! Yo ya la probé y, bueno, ella sí es un polvo MUY deliciosa - Go ahead! I’ve already tried/tasted her and, well, she is a VERY delicious fuck.

Hijo de puta - son of a bitch

Te voy a matar, cabrón - I’m going to kill you, motherfucker (loose translation on the last word lol)

Dios mio - qué te hicieron?  - My God, what did they do to you? 

Sí, mi amor, soy yo - Yes, my love, it’s me

Aquí estoy contigo y nunca te voy a dejar - I’m right here with you and I’m never going to leave you

No se preocupe - Don’t worry about it/No worries

Ayuda - Help

****I was going to make the whole exchange between Javier and the nurse be in Spanish, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how “Code Blue” would translate in a Columbian hospital lol so I decided to just leave it in mostly English

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What’d you guys think?? This chapter is probably the one with the most angst throughout, so we’re only going up from here lol i hope you guys enjoyed it, and thank you all SO MUCH for sticking with the series. it means a lot to me 😚💕

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed)

@captainclod​ @stevieharrrr​ @zeldasayer​ @cptnbvcks​ @spacegayofficial​ @themandjalorian​ @hiscyarika​ @mandoispunk​ @madadlorian​ @pedrolorians​ @forever-rogue​ @longitud-de-onda​ @certifiedskywalker​ @dindjarindiaries​ @no-droids-allowed​ @aerynwrites​ @buckyodinson​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows​ @gooddaykate​ @fanfiction-trashpile​ @arrowswithwifi​ @letaliabane​ @thinemineours​ @ham4arrow​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @thisainttheway​ @bluemoon-glen​ @katialvi​ @theforceofdarkandlight​ @24kgolden​ @livasaurasrex​ @c-ly-g​ @womp-ratt​ @fangirl-and-stuff​ @mrsparknuts​ @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​

[hobeemin]

content tag game

tagged by the lovely @joonscypher 🍒🍒

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? whew one i wrote for was sailor moon, true blood, xmen, batman, game of thrones. haven’t written anything in ages.

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? bts, got7, nct... i’ve put members of red velvet, vixx, txt, sunmi, exo, hyuna, hyolyn and a few others in my fics as well.

3. how long have you been writing? since middle school, but actually wriiten works online, i was 16

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? tumblr & ao3

5. what is your favourite genre to write? supernatural and crime. i always loved mysteries and fantasy and otherworldly creatures.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? both, but i lean towards planner now a days. i have to do at least a basic outline for my fics so i remember my thoughts and the plot.

7. one shot or multi-chapter? def both. 

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? umm honestly it depends on the fic.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? hmm if were looking over the course of my writing, it was a sailor fic called angel of mercy, super cringe >.<. but currently one i’m proud of is a bts fic called resurrection a mix of zombies and drama. i’m proud of writing a six part series in less than three months. don’t know if i can do that again lol

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? ohh good question, probably my delightful temptations series, dangerous pairing, jamais vu, and eros et psyche

11. favourite request you’ve written and why? hands down it was dark charms it combined both my love of bts and harry potter into one story. it was so much fun researching and familiarizing myself with hp world once again.

12. are there recurring themes in your stories? ohh def enemies or strangers to lovers. there is even a bit of slow burn if i’m being kind. 

13. current number of wips? you don’t wanna know...i think its like more than 10 by now.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? 1. i can never now a striaght pwp cause i like to describe a lot of details. 2. my mc always have an attitude lol 3. i need to use a thesaurus more.

15. a quote you like from a published story. this is from dark charms 😊

Her eyes scanned the shelves looking for the purple sprigs. She lit up once she saw them peeking behind an extra mortar and pestle. Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N tried to reach for them only for a hand to shoot in front of her to grab them. The intricate ink patterns on the fingers could only belong to one person. Jeon Jungkook. She sighed as he pulled the lavender off the shelf giving her the tiniest acknowledgment. He turned to walk away when she grabbed the sleeve of his robe.

“Um, that was mine first, Jungkook.”

He froze, whirling around to give her a cold stare. “Does it have your name on it?”

Y/N flinched slightly under his intense gaze. “N-No, but–”

“B-But,” he mimicked mockingly. With a snort, he turned back on his heel. “You can have it when I’m done with it.”

Her eyes blinked in surprise. She watched his retreating form going over to the table with the rest of his Slytherin buddies. She grabbed the Valerian sprigs and walked back into the classroom. Throat tightening, she tried to keep her composure as she made her way back to her table. He knew she couldn’t start the Sleeping Draught without the lavender. It took awhile to make the paste. Her eyes cast over to him as he took his sweet time pulling the lavender out and making a show of taking out each sprig slowly. Her face felt hot as she watched him chatting and laughing with his friends. Once she knew he wasn’t planning on giving them back, her face darkened with anger. All her reasoning going out the window. She grabbed something out of one of the bowls and stomped angrily over to his table, fist balled. Before she knew it, Y/N smacked him across the face with the flobberworm mucus and snatched the lavender from his hands.

16. a quote from an unpublished story. ohh okay here’s from a fic called a princely affair

“Who’s shameless?”

The couple’s eyes turned toward the entrance of the veranda. Namjoon was standing with a young woman. Her dress is the shade of lavender with a silver mask adorning her face.

“Cousin!” Aria ran to her in excitement. “Namjoon, have you two been getting acquainted?”

“You could say that,” he chuckled cutting his eyes to Jin. He raised his brow not understanding his friend and walked forward to the woman.

“Aria was just telling me she visited you abroad on her holiday. I’m surprised I didn’t know that information already.”

“Shocking really,” she said crossing her arms. “You would think Prince Seokjin would know all.”

“Pardon?”

“Still being a jerk?”

Aria cried out covering her mouth, “Cousin! H-How could you say that?!”

Jin clenched his jaw but gave a forced laugh. “I didn’t know she would be so bold.”

17. a space for you to say something to your readers. to anyone whose read my fics, thank you. i write for myself mostly, but if anyone enjoys my writing that is a bonus. love all yall 💜💜

tagging; @springbean @hobiandsprite @yoongsgguktae @kookdiaries @bangtanhome @ressjeon @oftenderweapons @joheunsaram @sugasbabiie

[rebelsarestrongashell]

Sunsets in Wakanda - 3

Summary: After his programming is removed, Natasha secretly visits Bucky in Wakanda. They rediscover each other as they are torn between love and promises.

Characters: Bucky x Natasha

A/N: A common theme throughout this fic is Shuri is truly an intellectual. You’ll understand what I mean in the next two chapters. Let me know what you guys thinks!

MASTERLIST 

If there was one thing Natasha couldn't stand about that damn Captain America, it was how much of an early riser he was; especially on travel days. After a long night of tossing and turning, Natasha seemed to have finally fallen into a deep sleep when Steve found it appropriate to wake her at five in the morning.

She didn't bother to get dressed or even look in the mirror as the smell of coffee filled her room, making her rise from her bed and head to the kitchen in a zombie like trance.

Steve was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and slowly taking sips from his mug. You could see the tension spread across his face as he got lost in his own thoughts, not even acknowledging Natasha's presence as she walked in. Sam, pouring himself a cup, had a mischievous look of amusement on his face as he took in the disheveled sight of Natasha, "Well aren't you a ray of sunshine in the morning," He said with a grin.

"Shut up and hand me a mug."

Wanda entered into the kitchen, looking like the zombie mirror image of Natasha, causing Sam to throw his head back in laughter. Natasha gave Wanda a small smile and an eye roll as she handed her a cup of black coffee.

"Thank you" Wanda said, taking a few sips but still glaring at Sam.

Without a word, Steve suddenly straightened himself up from the counter and cleaned his cup in the sink, making everyone turn their attention towards him. "We have a long day of travel ahead of us," He finally said with a tone of severity as he turned to face the three of them, "I'm going to head to the roof, make sure everything is ready to go with the quinjet. I would like you all to be ready to leave within the hour."

There was a few seconds of silence as Steve left and made his way up the stairs, "Whats up with him, I thought he would be in a better mood?" Asked Wanda.

The warmth of the coffee had replaced the icy in Natasha's veins, making her more susceptible to a normal humanlike conversation, "I think he's just a little worried," She replied, "If, for some reason, Shuri's deprogramming didn't work what other options would he have to help Barnes? Especially with our current rouge state," Sam and Wanda exchanged a look of understanding, "But we'll see once we get to Wakanda, I don't have any doubt in Shuri's abilities."

"We?" Asked Wanda with raised eyebrows.

Ignoring their gaze, Natasha took a prolonged sip of her coffee before answering, "I'm going to Wakanda with Steve. They think I can help Barnes with the whole coming to terms with your brainwashed past thing."

Sam let out a sarcastic chuckle while Wanda gave her the same knowing smirk she did the night before. Feeling a little on edge and eager to change the subject, Natasha turned the attention towards Wanda, "So what romantic destination are you off to this time?"

Wanda's smirk lingered for a moment longer, "I'm going to meet Vision in Northern Ireland."

"Secluded, good, I like it."

Wanda simply rolled her eyes. As much as she enjoyed bonding with Natasha over the past few years, Wanda wished she would stop her worrying about her trips with Vision, they were always careful.

Sam threw both hands up in the air, "Okay, I gotta ask, how do you and Vi-"

"Nope!" Wanda cut him off as she slammed her mug down on the counter, "You must certainly do not have to ask." She quickly made her way out of the kitchen with the hint of red in her cheeks.

Natasha couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed the few dishes around the room and headed to the sink. "The intimate parts of their relationship are really none of your business, Sam"

"You can't tell me you aren't even just the tiniest bit curious." He replied as she finished drying their mugs. She looked over her shoulder at him as she headed out of the kitchen, "Still none of our business." She said with a slightly wrinkled expression at the uncomfortable subject matter, "I'll see you on the jet."

- - -

Steve and Natasha didn't make it to Wakanda until early the next morning. Natasha let out an audible gasp as they broke through the protective barrier just after sunrise. Steve had told her about the beauty of Wakanda but it was beyond anything she had expected. Rolling hills of greenery, stunning mountains, sprawling lakes; sun seemed to touch every corner. As they approached the landing coordinates, Natasha's chest tighten thinking about her last encounter with the Wakandan king. "I'm not exactly sure T'Challa is going to want to see me." She said turning her head towards Steve who was standing behind her as she piloted the jet.

"He wouldn't of asked you here if he still held a grudge."

Almost on cue, T'Challa and Shuri came into their line of sight as Natasha lowered the jet onto the landing pad. As they exited, Natasha closed her eyes, taking in the warm breeze; reminding her of the french countryside during the summer. Opening her eyes, she took in the sight surrounding them. There was a modern yet old world feel to the large buildings around them. Natasha felt a sense of security being here. The king and princess approached them with genuine smiles on their faces, a good sign.

"Captain, welcome back."

"Good to see you again."

The two leaders exchange a sturdy, but friendly handshake before T'Challa turned his attention towards Natasha with smile, "Agent Romanoff, always a pleasure." He said with a sense of wit as they shook hands. She knew there was no reason to avoid the obvious, "T'Challa," She said with a smile, "No point of avoiding the elephant in the room, sorry for tasing you...my bad."

This caused an eye roll from Steve as he shook hands with Shuri but a genuine laugh came from the two Wakandans. "It's all behind us." He replied before his sister, not so gently, hip checked him so she could shake the famous Black Widow's hand, "Agent Romanoff, It's a pleasure," She greeted her with a wide grin, "I've heard so much about you."

"Likewise."

"Any update on Bucky?" Inquired Steve with a tone of eagerness. T'Challa held out his arm towards a stone path situated alongside the landing pad, seeming to lead down a large hill. As the four of them headed off down the path, a few members of the Dora Milaje followed behind them and Shuri began to explain Bucky's current situation.

"Only good news so far, Captain," She said, "We placed him in a small lodge outside of the city and he awoke, on his own, yesterday. That's where we are headed towards now."

Natasha's heartbeat seemed to grow louder by the second, she felt a clammy sensation in her palms. She wasn't expecting him to be conscious yet, she thought she had another day or two to collect her thoughts. She was trained to control her emotions but she was on the verge of failing and, based on his smirk, T'Challa seemed to notice.

Shuri took a quick glance at Natasha before continuing, "He's in good spirits and the kids around the village seem to have taken a liking to him. He was even asking about you shortly after he woke." She took another quick look at Natasha leaving Natasha unsure about who that last sentence was directed towards, luckily, Steve didn't seem to notice. She tried to distract herself by focusing on their beautiful surroundings as they walked farther away from the city. Steve continued to bombard Shuri with questions.

"How is his memory?" He asked

"It will take him sometime to regain all his memories but he's already showed great progress in the past 24 hours. He'll continue to have weekly visits with our doctors to make sure the progress continues."

"So what's the plan, longterm?"

T'Challa seemed to understand what Steve was getting at, "Captain, he is welcomed to stay here as long as he would like, even after he recovers."

Steve simply gave him a nod of gratitude, a sentiment Natasha shared. If not welcomed here, she wasn't sure there was a place in the world that James could go. He was a wanted criminal, probably more so than them. They couldn't just send him off on his own and James tagging along on their rouge missions ,with a high probability of getting caught, didn't feel like the best thing for him.

"Thats it just up ahead." pointed Shuri.

A couple hundred feet ahead of them were a few tiny bungalows situated next to a calm serene lake, framed by trees that seemed to touch the sky, and a handful of kids running around while the sounds of laughter rung out. It was peaceful, it was happy. Natasha felt a genuine smile on her face and looked over to Steve who matched her expression. It was the perfect place for James.

As they drew closer, a million scenarios where playing in her head. When sleep failed her, she would lay awake thinking about what their reunion would be like if he were ever to remember her, if he even wanted to remember her. All those years ago, they were in hell and clung to each other to feel like they had even the tiniest control of their lives. She was selfish, stupid, and only cause him more harm. If he wanted to ignore their past, could she really blame him? What if he were to say something in front of Steve, would Cap lose all trust in her again? A friendship possibly ruined because of the secrets she kept.

A man exiting the middle bungalow pulled her out of her anxiety filled thoughts. It took her a moment for her to register who he was. His dark hair was longer than the last time she saw him, a part of it was pulled back in a bun. He had a fuller beard but you could still make out those sharp features. He was wearing a deep red, knee length robe with a blue sash covering his left side, where his metal arm use to be. He looked much skinner, but healthier. The kids started chanting something but she couldn't understand what it was before Shuri hurried them away.

Her view of James was blocked as Steve went to embrace his life long friend, "Bucky, how are you?" You could feel the sense of ease in Steve's voice, and the smile on his face even with his back to the rest of them.

"Much better," Bucky replied with a smile Natasha hadn't seen in ages. As the men pulled away from their hug, his eyes fell onto her. His brows furrowed in confusion as he took in her short, blonde hair but then his mouth slightly hung open and his eyes widen upon realization of who stood in front of him.

He remembers. Natasha didn't notice the smirks on T'Challa and Shuri's faces nor the look of tense confusion on Steve's. Natasha and James had, the much needed, ability to communicate without words while in the Red Room; an ability Natasha was thankful they still seemed to have at this very moment. Her whole body seemed to exhale and that trademark smirk returned, "Sargent Barnes, nice to see you doing well," She said as she reached to shake his hand, "Not sure if you remember, I'm Natasha Romanoff." She was treading carefully, controlling the emotions inside. What she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him, tell him how much she had missed him but that would have to wait for another time.

"Yes, I remember...I'm sorry" He replied with a softened expression as he shook her hand for the briefest moment before she let go.

"For what?"

There was seriousness in his tone and a look of sadness in his eyes, "For everything."

[twdeadfanfic]

Life at the end of the world Pt.11

Summary: Your life as a zombie apocalypse survivor. It starts with the Reader settling into the camp at the quarry, before s1 and then follows the show events and storyline, more or less, but with the Reader in it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, violence, language.

Author’s note:  I’ve been itching to write a fic like this for a long while and I write it for fun, I don’t claim to be a writer so if you find you dislike this fic, please be kind and just stop reading. English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance. For the same reason, I can’t write character’s accents and things like that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it. There’d be several parts to this.

N/A: Quite self-indulgent chapter, between season 2 and 3, apologies if it’s not your thing,we’ll reach the prison soon. Fun fact, I wrote this before I wrote season 1 and 2, the first thing I wrote was the first half of season 3.

Surviving the winter was hard.

You moved from place to place without staying anywhere for long, the dead always close, chasing the living. Most times you could stay in the same place only for a day before a herd of walkers roamed dangerously close, forcing you to run away

There were days when at least you had a roof over your head, staying at some old house or abandoned cabin, but a lot of times you were forced to camp in the middle of nowhere. That had been the worst, especially at first when you were forced to make camp with just a few blankets, having left most of your belongings at the farm, until Maggie and Glenn managed to find some camping gear on a run. Still, as the weather grew colder, it was hard to keep the cold out of your thin tents and most nights you found yourself trying to sleep through chatting teeth, huddled close to Carol in your sleeping bags.

But you were alive, and you were together, and that was what mattered.

Rick had proven himself to be a good leader, despite all your worries and doubts and even Carol had to admit it, he kept you going, kept you safe and motivated. Daryl had been right, though sometimes cold as hard, Rick was no tyrant. He leaned on Hershel and Daryl, talking his decisions with them but also listening to all of you.

He cared for you, striving to keep you all safe. It was obvious, even if he didn’t externally show it much, busy as he was taking care of his pregnant wife and kid while making sure you all you were okay too. You all cared for him as in return too, the same way as you cared for each other.

You all had become a family, one you were beyond grateful for. Those people were your world and there wasn’t a day you weren’t grateful for them. You all were tired and scared, but you kept each other going, always there for each other, never giving up.

It wasn’t easy, some days you were at each other’s throats, arguing about little stupid things. It was no wonder, having to be always together in such close quarters, but at the end of the day, you were always there for each other.

There was a bond between all of you that you were sure was unbreakable and some days it was the only thing that kept you going when despair took hold of you.

If you had to take something good out of your situation, besides becoming a close family, it’d be that it had forced you to handle weapons, no matter most of you weren’t used to it before, and you all were getting increasingly good at killing the monsters.

You still preferred guns to hand to hand weapons like knives, your small size being a disadvantage when most walkers were rather taller than you. You could work your knife, sure, and had ended your fair share of walkers, but you were more comfortable with your gun and you were proud of how good your aim was by now.

Carol was also working on it, and sometimes you two would get into friendly competitions. It wasn’t often, though, since you had to save bullets and the noise would bring every walker nearby to your group. You wished you could practice your aim more often, but the only gun silencer you had found for now had gone to Carl and still, you couldn’t waste the bullets, so you found yourself neglecting your gun and relying on your knife more than you’d have liked to.

You had been eyeing Daryl’s crossbow with well-meaning envy, since it was silent and most times he was able to get his arrows back, besides making his own with a skill that amazed you. Daryl had caught your wanting eyes and much to your surprise had eventually allowed you to try the crossbow so you could keep practicing your aim.

It wasn’t as easy as you had hoped and totally different from working a gun. You were proud to say your aim with a gun was rather good but with the crossbow you felt like a beginner again, arrows working way different than bullets. It kicked back harder than you expected, making you miss your targets as the crossbow moved, hurting your arm a couple of times.

Not to mention the process of recharging the arrow and tensing the string, which required strong arms and had you cursing the effort every time you had to do it. Daryl would just chuckle quietly at your frustration but he kept letting you try whenever you had free time and wanted to practice your aim without wasting bullets and making a fuss.

“I think I’ll stick to guns.” You said deflated one day after missing your target for the third time in a row, unable to control the kickback, your arms sore and hurting.

“Then you’ll never be good at this,” Daryl said while retrieving the arrow from the tree trunk you were using for practice. You had missed the mark Daryl had drawn on it and you glared at the tree as if it were its fault.

“I’m not getting any good.” You complained grumpily, handing him the crossbow, feeling done for the day.

“You wanted to practice, quit bitching.” Daryl took the crossbow just long enough to reload it, taking in your tired arms before handing it back to you. “Again.”

By the time you went back to the cabin where your group was staying for the day, your arms were sore but you had managed to hit the mark.

You sat down next to Carol with a proud smile.

“Now, look at that face.” Carol laughed. “I’d say you’re getting better.”

“Yes, now I can hit things that don’t move one time out of ten.” You joked, taking a bite of tuna from the can Carol passed you.

You were running low on food again, having to share even the tiniest cans, trying to give as much food as possible to Lori. She was getting bigger, but her face was getting more and more thin and pale, and you all worried for her even though you didn’t say it aloud.

Daryl’d hunt for you whenever he could, but it was getting harder for him to find any game and you saw him growing more and more frustrated and worried each day. You didn’t know if it was the geeks or the cold, but animals were scarce to find. Daryl wouldn’t give up though, no matter what.

Glenn and Maggie went on runs whenever they could, both of them being the most expert of you at scavenging supplies, but that too was starting to get hard. There weren’t many places unspoiled, stores where already empty and any house you found seemed to have been emptied long ago. Rick wanted you to keep out of the beating track but soon you had reached a point in which you needed to go on runs to bigger places from time to time.

As your confidence on your skills grew, you started to go on more runs to help, sometimes with Maggie and Glenn, sometimes with Daryl on his bike, whenever the road was too blocked for the cars.

Carol wouldn’t join your runs much, busy as she was learning everything she could from Hershel, mostly in order to help Lori deliver her baby, she needed all the help she could get.

You were closer to Carol than to any other in your group and she was still your best friend, but as you went on more runs you found yourself growing close to Glenn and Maggie, becoming fast friends with the farmer girl. She was sweet and kind like Carol, even though sometimes she showed a tough face, and funny and brave. You admired how good she was with her knife, walkers dropping at her feet whenever you encountered a group in your runs.

“It’s just that I’m taller so it’s easier for me, but you are good too.”  Maggie would tell you whenever you complained, throwing her arm around your shoulders in a half hug.

The heart eyes Glenn would always give her told you that you weren’t alone in your admiration, and they were such a cute, strong couple you loved to be around them, enjoying your runs together no matter the danger.

The same way, you had grown closer to Daryl too. Back in the farm, you had started to see a side of him that had been hidden when his brother had been around, you had seen how he actually had a kind, big heart that drove him to help others. He was completely loyal to Rick and your group, and there was no doubt he cared for all you as if you were family.

He had been slowly opening up to the group, especially to Carol who you were sure was his best friend and the first one to get him to do so, and to Rick, who relied on Daryl for help and who in return had won Daryl’s respect and affection.

You felt safe with him, his presence comforting in your darkest moments, and you even enjoyed your runs together, which gave you a chance to talk more with him, slowly getting to know more about him, tiny bits and pieces of information about him and his life before that he’d share with you ever so slowly, and which you cherished. Though usually, it was you who made all the talking while Daryl just listened, but he never complained and seemed genuinely interested in whatever you were saying.

And so you found yourself growing fonder of the archer.

You thought Daryl was closer to you too or at the very least you were sure he saw you as a good friend too. Friend enough to let you try his crossbow and take you with him on runs, it seemed, which wasn’t little.

As time passed, you felt more and more comfortable around him, enough to joke around with him and Carol, who seemed keen of teasing the shy archer whenever she had a chance but who deeply cared for him, and soon they both, along with Maggie, became the people you were closer to in the group, seeking their company during those challenging, tiring days or nights when you felt yourself despair, hunger, fear, and cold getting a hold of you. But whenever your mood faltered, you could count on your family to pull you back to your feet.

One day, you weren’t sure after how many days on the move anymore, you woke up to find that everyone else in your camp was already up and making plans for the day. It was later than you usually woke up and you weren’t one to oversleep these days, but you had been up in watch duty with T-Dog for the most part of the night.

You saw Rick and Daryl had a map lying on top of Rick’s car hood. They were studying it and you walked closer to see what they were looking, munching on a cereal bar Carol had tossed at you.

“Road is almost blocked so it might be dangerous.” Rick was frowning at the map, always looking worried and half exhausted these days. You knew he felt the pressure of having to provide not only for all of you but for Lori and the baby especially.

“We have to do it anyway.” Daryl shrugged. “It’s okay, it’s not that far, it’ll be easy.”

Rick gave the archer a small smile as if he were grateful he was trying to keep spirits high and ease his worries. “It’s probably empty already, but it’s quite in the middle of nowhere so it’s worth a shot.”

“What’s worth a shot?” You asked when you got close, leaning over the map.

“A service area not too far from here.” Rick pointed at it on the map. “Daryl’s going on a run to see if there’s something useful left.”

“You coming?” Daryl raised his eyebrows at you.

“Sure thing!”

Not even fifteen minutes later you were already speeding up the road on Daryl’s bike. When you hit the road that led to the service area, it didn’t take you long to see why the cars couldn’t go. As Rick had told you, the road was almost blocked by cars. It seemed there had been a traffic jam back at the beginning that had ended up badly. There were a few walkers roaming around, not enough to call it a herd, and they turned their heads towards you when they heard the motorbike.

Daryl just ignored them, zigzagging the bike through cars and walkers equally as if they were nothing. You trusted him but you couldn’t help your fear as the monsters snapped at you, never reaching you, and you closed your eyes, pressing your face to Daryl’s back and holding tight to him.

“You okay?” Daryl asked over the rumble of the bike and you nodded but didn’t look up.

As Rick had said, the service area was quite out of the beaten track and was also rather smaller than you had expected. It consisted of which seemed to have been a bar or restaurant for travelers to rest and a gas station a few meters away.

“They won’t catch up to us for a while,” Daryl told you when he saw you worriedly glancing towards the road where you had left the walkers.

You headed for the restaurant first. There were a couple of cars parked in front of it and you walked towards one, leaving the other for Daryl. There was a dead woman on the passenger seat, but she wasn’t moving, seeming dead for real and when you pulled her out of the vehicle, trying not to think much about it, you saw the bullet hole on her temple.

There weren’t much to scavenge inside besides car papers and licenses. You only found a pack of gums and a pair of sunglasses that you tried on, deciding they didn’t look bad. And the woman wasn’t going to need them anymore.

“Any luck?” You asked Daryl, tossing him the gums. “Well’ it’s something...” You let out a sigh when he showed you a pack of chocolate cookies. They were probably melted and out of date but you weren’t going to say no to chocolate.

“Come on.” Daryl headed to the building and you followed him.

It was too dark inside too see anything through the windows and they were too dirty anyway, but when Daryl knocked on the glass nothing happened. The door was held closed with a metal bar, which was never a good signal, but you couldn’t just leave empty handed and no walker had come to the windows no when Daryl knocked, so between you and Daryl, you managed to remove it. Turning on your lanterns, you opened the door and stepped inside.

First the smell then the sight made your stomach turn and you almost gagged. There were several bodies scattered around, half rotten and more than half eaten. Walking closer you saw all of them had a neat bullet hole in the middle of their forehead.

“Like they were executed or something...” Daryl muttered.

“What happened here?” You asked but he just shrugged.

You had goosebumps on your skin, a horrible feeling washing over you and you couldn’t wait to be out of there so you rushed to explore. You knew you couldn’t carry much with you in the bags attached to the motorbike, but you hoped you could find some useful stuff. To your disappointment, the place seemed empty.

You were so sure the place was empty of walkers that when you heard one crawling towards your direction from a corridor you almost jumped out of your skin. You aimed quickly, landing a perfect headshot. Judging by the state of the corpse, it seemed it’d been trapped there for a while.

“Why I can’t do that with the crossbow.” You complained and heard Daryl chuckling.

Unable to find anything useful in the restaurant main area or in the bar beside broken alcohol bottles, you went to the kitchen. You found another two walkers there which also looked dried out and half rotten. They were munching on the remains of which seemed to have been a person once, but there wasn’t much left. You felt almost sick at the sight but Daryl acted quick, shooting an arrow to the head of one and sinking his knife in the head of the other.

“I don’t think that’s sanitary...” You joked nervously when Daryl took back his arrow and cleaned the gore on his shirt.

You had more luck there, even if just a little. The kitchen seemed to have been emptied already too, and the food and produce were rotten but you managed to find hidden a few cans of tuna, some others of spam and a couple cans of beans.

“Better than nothing.” You said to Daryl while you get the cans inside your bags, knowing he’d been hoping for a bigger haul.

You left the restaurant and headed towards the gas station without much hope, but after scooping around Daryl managed to find two fuel bottles which lifted his mood immediately and you couldn’t help your smile when you saw his.

“Let’s head back,” Daryl told you and you nodded.

You stopped in your tracks after a couple of steps when you heard a small cry coming from somewhere close. The sound was so soft you thought you might have imagined it, but Daryl looked at you like he’d heard it too.

“There.” He pointed at some worn-out cardboard boxes next to a wall.

You walked closer and heard again a tiny whimper coming from a cardboard box that was covered by several other holed cardboards.

Daryl lifted the cardboards so you could see what was inside the box, and you gasped, not sure if you were more shocked or delighted at the sight of what you found.

There were three kittens inside, lying over a cat you supposed was their mother. She gave you a soft mew and looked at you warily, but didn’t move. She seemed very tired and you guessed she hadn’t had the chance to eat much lately.

“Kittens!” You couldn’t help your squeal and knelt down to watch them. “They’re so cute, I never thought I’d see kittens again...”

Daryl knelt down next to you with a worried frown, and now that your initial, delighted surprise was ebbing you worried too.

“What do we do? We can’t just leave them here...” They were bound to be walkers food if a group found them.

“It’s not like they’d be safer with us, Y/N, we don’t have a safe place or anything,” Daryl told you, but he seemed reluctant to leave them there too. “And I’m not sure we could take them on the bike.”

You knew it was true but it still broke your heart. The kittens weren’t newborn but they were tiny enough it’d take them a couple weeks at the very least to be able to survive on their own.

“But the herd is coming, they’ll find them...” You whimpered disgruntled.

You watched as Daryl carefully let one of his hands hover over the box as if to see if the mother would attack him or not before lowering it. One of the kittens lifted his head and got up, walking towards the hand and Daryl reached his finger, letting the kitten give him a shy sniff.

“We can try and get them a safer home than a cardboard box.” Daryl finally said, getting up and looking around. “There.” He nodded towards the other side of the gas station where there were some broken pallets and small wooden planks on the floor.

You helped Daryl carry everything he deemed useful back to the box. You weren’t sure of what he wanted to do, but you followed his instructions as he placed and stacked the pieces of wood here and there. Soon it began to take form and by the end, he had created some sort of wooden fortification around the box.

“Aren’t they trapped inside now?” You asked worriedly.

“Nah.” He pointed at the tiny holes between each wooden plank. “They can breathe through there, and that,” he pointed at a slightly bigger hole at the back, half hidden, “allows them to go in an out but it’s not on sight. They better be smart enough to keep quiet, though.”

“You are amazing Daryl Dixon.” You smiled in awe, but he just scoffed, looking down as his cheeks turned pink.

Carefully, Daryl lifted the couple planks that served as a roof so you could take a last look at the kittens. They were more awake now, inspecting the planks, some of them even trying to scratch the wood with their tiny nails.

“Careful with the noise there.” Daryl scolded, gently tapping the head of one of the kittens with his finger, earning himself the smallest bite.

Slowly, you scratched the mother behind the ears and soon she was purring. “I love cats purring, I never thought I’d hear it again...” You smiled blissfully, scratching one of the kittens now.

“You think Rick’d be mad if we give them some of that tuna we found?” You asked uncertainly. You knew Rick had a good heart but he’d probably not trade his family food for some kittens he hadn’t even seen.

“We could not tell him...” Daryl replied but he sounded unsure as if he didn’t like to lie to Rick.

“I’ll tell him it was my fault.” You offered.

“No, it’s fine.” Daryl was already taking a can of tuna out of the bag and he let it next to the mother after opening it. The cat sniffed at it curiously and then began to eat from it as if she were starving, one of the kittens sticking his head on it too. They seemed hungry and you ended up leaving them almost half of your tuna cans haul and one of spam.

“Ready?” Daryl asked after putting the wooden roof back in place safely.

“Yeah.” You nodded and followed him to his bike. “Thanks for this.” Daryl just shrugged at your words, looking away from you as he got onto his bike.

You looked at the road and saw that the small group of walkers you had passed earlier that day was getting closer. No matter if it was small, you shuddered at the idea of having to zigzag through them on the bike again.

“I hope they’ll be okay...” You gave a last worried look at the kitten fort before getting behind Daryl on the bike and held to him.

“They’ll be,” Daryl assured you, turning the engine on as soon as he felt your arms around him. “Probably those walkers will follow the sound of the bike away from here...we gotta lose them before reaching the camp, tho...”

You were glad for the kittens although the perspective for your trip didn’t sound good at all, but you nodded and gritted your teeth, holding tight to Daryl, trusting him to get you home safely.

He did, although you arrived at the camp when the sun was almost down already and you were greeted by the worried eyes and worried questions of your friends before Rick cleared his way to you.

“You alright?” He questioned, his eyes easing when he took in your unharmed state. “What took you so long?”

Daryl looked at you for a second and spoke before you could do so. “Walkers on the way. The usual.” He shrugged, avoiding Rick’s eyes, and you nodded a bit too eagerly at his words, wanting to keep the kittens secret just in case.

Rick arched an eyebrow at you two like he didn’t believe Daryl but didn’t question any further and he began helping you unpack your little haul, face lifting when he saw the fuel bottles tied to the bike, that’d allow your group to keep moving for a while.

“You had us worried,” Carol told you while you kept her company during watch duty. “We always come back before the sun goes down, no matter what.”

It was obvious she hadn’t believed Daryl’s excuses, she knew you both and knew you were hiding something, and you bit your lip, wanting to tell her.

“Don’t tell the other’s okay?” You finally said quietly and Carol nodded, a smile tugging at her lips and a playful look in her eyes. “We found kittens!” You smiled like an idiot again at the memory. “But the walkers were close so Daryl made them a tiny refuge of wood, it was amazing, that’s why we took longer, and...”

“Kittens!” Carol’s chuckle interrupted you and she shook her head. “And here I was thinking Daryl and you had stopped to have some quality time together...”

“What?!” You blinked in disbelieve, not sure if she was really suggesting what you were thinking.

“I think Rick thought the same when he heard your sad excuses and saw your guilty faces and that’s why he didn’t go harder on you.” Carol kept talking and you felt mortified it had been so obvious you were lying. “He knows that’s why Glenn and Maggie take longer on runs sometimes...”

“Well, it’s not the case!” Your voice went louder than you wanted, your cheeks blushing at her insinuations. “How could you think that...you know it’s not like that...” You lowered your voice again.

“Why, you seem to spend a lot of time together lately...and well, you have this look on your face sometimes when you are together...” Carol shrugged smirking.

“We also spend a lot of time with you and that doesn’t mean anything!” You groaned, pointedly ignoring her remark about the look that you might or might not have when you looked at Daryl.

“That’s cos none of you’d been brave enough to make a move on me yet.” Carol winked at you and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh, some of your tensions leaving you.

“We know you’re out of our league.” You nudged her shoulder with yours. You shouldn’t have taken her words so seriously, knowing she liked to tease and embarrass you sometimes.

Later that night, though, you found yourself thinking again and again about her words, wondering if you had reacted like that because maybe she had hit close home. You could deny it to everyone in your family, to yourself even, but you had begun to harbor feelings for the archer that you couldn’t strictly label as platonic, no matter if you tried.

They grew every day, with every run together, every shared guard duty, every conversation, no matter how much you tried to stomp on those blooming feelings, sure they wouldn’t do you any good. But they resisted, didn’t go away no matter how hard you tried.

Daryl was attractive, of course he was, but it was more than that. You admired him, how he’d been able to grow and become the person he was now, despite what the world had put him through since he was a kid. You trusted him completely and you loved his big heart, he was kind and compassionate, a genuinely good person in an awful world, you had seen it again today. He was loyal to your group no matter what, caring for all of you way more than for himself, always making sure you were okay and helping you in every way he could.

Your heart was starting to beat fast, fast, and you forced yourself and your mind to stop. Daryl was your friend, you were happy he appreciated you and felt comfortable with you. If he knew what was on your mind, he’d probably freak out, he might even close himself to you again, putting distance between you two, and that was something you couldn’t bear. So you were determined to sit on your feelings until they went away, to ignore them and cut off that silly crush before it could ruin your friendship.

You were about to give up on the idea of sleeping at all when you heard T-Dog alerting you of walkers approaching. You jumped on your feet and helped your family gather your scarce belongings, throwing them onto the vehicles to leave as fast as possible.

On the move again.

@momc95@jodiereedus22@osweetdevilo@sapphire1727@coffeebooksandfandom  @the-destielr @checkintoreality

I never thought anyone’d like to be tag in any of my stories so thank you! It means the world! <3

If you want to be tagged please let me know.

[spacekittiesiguess]

This fic doesn’t have a title and is full of angst

But I needed some way to get this mass of feelings out, so. Here we go. Set just after Voltron leaves Lotor in the quintessence field.

He’d been hoping. Against hope, as it were, but hoping nonetheless. He should have learned thousands of years ago that anything he believed could actually come to fruition never would. He was simply not destined for such things as success, as happiness, as peace. The stars did not write lyrics for him as they did for others. And yet he would strive for them until his dying breath, these ideals that sparkled like sunlight on the water of a world he’d never inhabited, never called his own. His dying breath was likely closer than he’d anticipated, if he were honest with himself. It was difficult to be; he’d been so dishonest with everything aside from his emotional armor that the pain coursing through him at her words was almost cold rather than searing. It did not matter. Nothing did, now. His apology had not been enough. And yet he’d hoped, by some miracle beyond his comprehension, that it might change something. Might give her pause, a moment to analyze, to understand that he truly had never wanted to harm anyone. Never. Not once. And yet it had been all he could do, to save any. He’d said it all, to that tiniest of data cells now housed in one of the crevices in Allura’s armor. What he’d been working on when he’d said he was attending to “imperial duties.” The only lie he had ever told her. That he was broken. Too broken to lead this Empire when the cracks in his soul were starting to show. Cracks she’d helped so much to mend. Had it been enough? Obviously not, as the blinding light around him verified ever time he opened his eyes to try to alleviate the searing pain in his head, in his heart. But he had tried. Hopeless as it was, he wanted it regardless. Peace. Connection. Something other than dismissal and scorn. A way to feel, truly feel, that the starlight and quintessence in him were of the same substances that flowed through her. Made her into the most gloriously, radiantly, painfully beautiful of any celestial occurrence he had ever had the privilege to behold. He remembered her pain. The haunted look in her eyes as she’d heard what he’d done to the Alteans he’d saved. The colony he was attempting to preserve. And yet he’d foolishly hoped that he could make it right, make her understand, make her see. Instead she had spoken words in her anger and her heartbreak that had transformed him back into the very creature he had finally been beginning to believe he was beating. That could stay dead, to allow him to move toward happiness. He should have known better. Such things were not meant for the sons of tyrants and witches made zombies. Not for princes who had slaughtered thousands, millions. Not for the weak, the foolish, the unworthy of love. He was indeed exactly like his father, wanting nothing more than one thing. Yet his wish was never for power. It was for acceptance. Even more than peace, his heart ached for it. Well. It was not to be. Not possible, when he’d shouted such hurtful things at her, at the Paladins, at his beloved friends who had stood by his side for centuries on end. He meant not a one. They were yet another defense, so he could stop this weakness. This…corruption in himself. He had known, the second he’d told her that together they could make sure the power here did not corrupt. He had not expected it so soon. And truly, he was powerful here. But he was not the man who had entered, not the man Allura had loved. He did not know who or what he was now, but though it hurt that she had left him, he had wished it of her. 

Hurting them all could drive them back, make them hate him, make Ezor, Zethrid and Acxa leave him with the madness embedded in his very being. To make Voltron, make Allura, angry enough to do away with him. He had told her that, as well, on the data cell. That he truly wanted what she did, their shared vision of a peaceful universe. How he wished he could be there to witness it with her. How he regretted that she would likely be hurt, when she knew the truth. How that stung, now. In this prelude to death he was being given a moment of clarity, but he could feel the pressure building and was glad and thankful beyond measure that they had closed this place off, to keep this madness from the universe at large. He should have known better, but he was far too stupid and too much a dreamer. Always had been. His breaths were wheezing; painful. Perhaps he could sleep. Rest, finally. It felt as thought it had been decaphoebes. Perhaps it had been. But he could do this no longer. Instead, he simply mouthed the final words he’d placed on the data cell before he shut his eyes and knew no more. “I love you with everything I am and all the many things I wanted so badly to be. Forgive me, if you can, and find the love and happiness you so deserve.”

[hrtiu]

The Return

Just watched Loki today and it’s got my feeling nostalgic for the 100k Loki x OC fic I wrote between Infinity War and Endgame 😌 Anyway this definitely doesn’t fit on the sacred timeline but it was fun to write! Here’s the first chapter in case anyone is interested.

Six months after half of humanity disappeared in what later came to be known as “The Snap,” the victims of that bizarre event suddenly reappeared. It happened just as the world was finally beginning to right itself from that traumatic event—just as people began to accept that those who were missing were truly gone. Not that anyone could ever truly recover from something like that. Families torn in half, children lost, friends, colleagues, regular faces about town. Half the world’s heads of states, half of its business executives, half of its doctors, half of its children, half of its everything—all gone. The world would never be the same, but it had finally begun to reach some kind of functioning state again when just as inexplicably as they left the earth, all of the missing people returned.

The hospital was very busy that day. Thankfully, people reappeared in mostly sensible places. Nobody materialized thousands of feet in the air, or directly in front of oncoming traffic, or anything like that. Still, the reappearances were abrupt and disorienting, and sometimes led to mishaps directly afterwards. One way or another, a decent number of the returned ended up in the hospital, where nurses like Alice Wakefield helped them get sorted out.

For Alice that day had been filled with taking peoples’ names and information, trying to find empty beds or chairs, contacting family members, and sorting out the people who actually needed urgent medical attention from those who were just looking for a place to regroup. For several weeks the hospital was in chaos, having accidentally become the primary meeting place for families seeking out their missing loved ones.

Some people were ready to get back into the swing of things just as soon as they rematerialized. Esther Diaz, another nurse and Alice’s supervisor, headed right back to the hospital the same day she returned, the saintly woman recognizing immediately that the hospital would be overburdened. Other people took longer to readjust. Whatever had happened to them had been harrowing, and some patients wouldn’t tell the nurses their personal information, or couldn’t even bring themselves to speak, for days after the event.

Michael was one of those people who took longer to recover. Michael probably wasn’t his real name, but Alice called him that because his slicked-back dark hair reminded her of Michael Corleone, and the name stuck. From the time a paramedic team brought him into the hospital, Michael hadn’t spoken a single word, to anybody. And while other patients gradually opened up or were found by their families, Michael stayed in his hospital room, silent and haunted.

Two months after The Return, the hospital had mostly returned to normal. That is to say, most of the people who had disappeared during The Snap had now found their way back to their homes. Obviously no one on earth was quite the same as they were pre-Snap. Alice made her rounds, and for the first time in weeks, the majority of her patients were people brought in for routine medical assistance. She helped with some stitches, a bad flu, a broken leg, and one small child who had accidentally stapled their finger before she went to check on Michael.

“Good morning, Mikey, how’s it going?” Alice said, using her best chipper nurse voice. He didn’t respond, of course.

Alice walked over to his bedside and checked his chart. Everything seemed normal. She turned her head over towards Mike and sighed. He looked just like he always did: wan and tired, his sunken features highlighting his high cheekbones. His eyes were open, but did not focus on anything. His stringy, shoulder-length black hair was cut in a style that needed attention to look good, and he certainly hadn’t put any effort into maintaining it. In a spurt of dark humor, Alice thought to herself that he rather looked like a vampire, or perhaps a well-preserved zombie.

“Let’s go for a walk, huh?” she said, moving to the other side of the bed and pulling the covers back. With a little encouragement, he moved his long legs off the bed and set his feet on the floor. Alice put her shoulder under his arm, and helped him up. Michael’s responsiveness to instructions and physical queues was about the limit of his interactions, but at least it meant he was relatively easy to move around.

Alice led Michael out of his room and into the hallway, where they often did laps around the ward to help Michael get a little bit of activity into his day. Today, though, Alice led him outside of the ward to a terrace on the third floor, where they could get some sunshine and privacy. It was a lovely spring day, and some of the trees on the hospital grounds below had already started flowering. Alice made sure Michael was steady on his feet before moving out from under his shoulder and standing in front of him.

“Michael,” she said, and his eyes, which had been staring off into the distance, flicked towards her. That was a good sign.

“Now, I know Michael probably isn’t your real name, unless I got really lucky with my nickname. Do you want to tell me your real name?” Alice said.

He just kept staring, his thin lips showing no sign of movement.

“It would be really helpful for us to know your name, Michael. I feel bad using this fake name all the time.”

More silence. His light blue eyes seemed to bore into hers, and despite the hospital gown he somehow managed to exude an aura of cool authority. It was a little intimidating, to be honest.

“What about family? Do you have any family? Anyone we can let know you’re here?”

At that, the corner of his mouth twitched. At least, Alice thought it did—it had been the tiniest of movements. Still, it was the most anybody had gotten out of him in months.

“Yeah? You must have some family. Maybe nearby? How about… How about you write down their names?” she said, pulling a notepad and pen out of her scrubs, “Or an address? Or phone number?”

She held the notepad and pen out to Michael, but he made no motion to grab them. His eyes didn’t even focus on them. His pale blue eyes continued to look at her, until they gradually started to slide away again. She was losing him.

Alice took him by the hand and led him over to a bench on the far side of the terrace. She sat down next to him, then angled herself so she could face him.

“Look, Michael. You’ve been here for two months already. Physically, you’re fine. As a hospital, there’s not much more we can do for you here. Because of the… event, we’ve been allowing people to stay here longer than usual, but we can’t keep you here indefinitely. My superiors said they will have to discharge you by the end of the week,” Alice said, willing him to understand his predicament.

Michael looked at her for a long moment, then turned his head back towards the hospital grounds.

“If you don’t want to talk, you can just nod yes or no, how about that?” Alice said, hearing the desperation build in her voice. She had tried all of these tactics—pen and paper, nodding and shaking, etc—before, but she refused to give up. She did not want to imagine what would happen to Michael if he were left on his own.

“Do you remember your name?” she asked. She waited a generous amount of time for him to shake or nod his head, but he kept looking straight forward.

“Do you have family? ...Do you know where you’re from? ...We’re in New York right now, do you know where that is?”

Nothing. Defeated, Alice hung her head and she forced the water she could already feel building behind her eyes to halt, absolutely refusing to cry. She knew the tears weren’t just about her current predicament. Everyone had been pushed to their emotional limits lately, and it wasn’t uncommon for people in the hospital to break down. In general, people were understanding of these kinds of breakdowns. What did you expect when half of the world suddenly went missing? Still, Alice hadn’t lost as much as most people, and she didn’t want Michael to see her frustration.

Alice decided to focus on something productive instead of the roadblocks. She wracked her brain for any clues they might have as to Michael’s identity.

When he’d arrived at the hospital, he’d been wearing an odd dark blue leather jacket of sorts, with matching pants. The shoulders and arms of the jacket were padded, and Alice figured they were probably for riding a motorcycle, although he hadn’t had a helmet with him. He’d also had a yellow-blue blanket. It almost looked like a cape, but Alice figured it couldn’t possibly have been a cape, unless he’d just escaped from a movie set or convention. Other than the jacket, pants, blanket, and a pair of shiny black boots, he’d had nothing. No wallet, no cellphone, no money, no form of identification. Perhaps he’d been a courier, perhaps he’d been a professional racer, perhaps he’d just owned a motorcycle as a hobby. There was no way of knowing, and virtually no other clues. He looked like he might be in his mid-thirties, but he also had the kind of face that could be a lot older, so Alice didn’t even have a good sense of his age. He was a mystery that refused to be solved.

Michael waited as she stewed, his features betraying no impatience or frustration or any emotion at all. Eventually, they stood and walked around the terrace a little more before Alice took Michael back to his room. Esther caught her eye as she helped him into his room.

“Any luck?” Esther asked.

Alice just shook her head, and Esther raised her eyebrows with a sad half-smile. They were both worried about their mystery patient. It wasn’t uncommon for homeless people to end up in the hospital, and it was always difficult discharging them knowing they had no place to go, but somehow this felt different. Michael had been disintegrated, then brought back to life, and it seemed no one cared.

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